


The Chosen One

by em1985



Series: In absentia lucis, tenebrae vincunt [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Boy-Who-Lived Neville Longbottom, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Draco/Harry Potter in later books, Eventual Relationships, Gen, Harry Potter is Not the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Implied Relationships, Not Canon Compliant, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags in later books, POV Alternating, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Neville Longbottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-07-10 17:52:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 70,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19909786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/em1985/pseuds/em1985
Summary: Two infants, Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom, were born at the end of July in 1980, both fitting a mysterious prophecy foretold. On the fateful night of October 31, 1981, Voldemort failed to murder Neville Longbottom, marking him as the boy who lived and sealing his fate as the Chosen One.





	1. The Boy Who Lived.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series featuring Neville Longbottom as The-Boy-Who-Lives. The first one, "The Chosen One", is the non-canonical equivalent of "The Philosopher's Stone". Other books will follow. I don't reveal everything right off but I assure you, everything will be revealed. 
> 
> Relationships will happen in later books in the series. The point of view starts off as Neville's. Chapter 7 is when it starts to alternate between Draco and Neville.
> 
> I am going to tag things as I go along.
> 
> I do not own J.K. Rowling's characters or the masterpiece series she created.

Augusta Longbottom bustled around the apartment, humming as she worked. She lived alone with several cats. Rarely did she ever leave the house. She didn’t feel the need to unless she was running short of food. She used to be quite social but that was when she was young. As she aged, she became comfortable in her own home, especially in the wake of the current war. It was nasty business, nothing that an older woman whose husband had already passed should get involved in. 

It was late in the night when she heard a knock on the door. _Who's knocking on the door like a common Muggle?_ She thought to herself crossly. At first, she ignored it but it persisted. Using words that she would never admit to using; she finally got up and put on her slippers. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” She grumbled.

She paused at the door, realizing they could be Death Eaters. Although, what would they want with her? She took out her wand and glanced into the peephole. There was Albus Dumbledore, standing on her step with a stern looking woman beside him! 

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing?” She hissed out. She hadn’t seen the baby carriage on the step. 

“I’m afraid we had to arrive in a non-traditional manner. We had to take extra precautions. Would you please allow us to enter before we are seen?” Dumbledore calmly stated, though a slight hint of urgency lingered in his voice.

She stared passed him at the unnaturally dark street and quickly opened the door. She now noticed the tiny infant in the carrier as the woman picked it up. The unexpected trio entered the house. Augusta quickly closed and locked the door.

She lit the room with a nonverbal spell on her wand. “Tea?” She asked the adult duo. 

“No, thank you.” Albus Dumbledore and the other woman replied simultaneously.

“Well I am making some anyway--with all of this---madness.” She spoke more to herself than the other two.

Once she put the kettle on, she approached them. “Albus Dumbledore, your reputation precedes you.” She stated. “And you are?” She addressed the woman.

Inwardly she was panicking at the sight of the two of them and the child who innocently slept, oblivious to what had occurred.

“I am Minerva McGonagall.” She primly stated.

“Very well. Sit, please. Tea will be ready in a few moments.”

“We haven’t the time for that. You must take this child and this letter that explains everything. We must take our leave.” Dumbledore hastened.

Minerva already put down the carriage on the floor.

“What? But I have no--I am an old woman and my children are grown---” She stopped at the grave expressions on their faces. “What has happened?” Her long bony face paled, a mother’s instinct.

Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanged meaningful glances before the man continued. “I’m afraid Voldemort had attacked your son, Frank, and his wife, Alice.” He began, realizing this part was not one to be merely explained in writing on a parchment.

She gasped as her hand flew to her chest as though she was trying to hold her heart inside of it. She winced at Dumbledore’s usage of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. “Are they OK? What of Neville, my grandson?” Her voice was shaky.

“I’m afraid Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom have perished and Neville is there before you.” Dumbledore spoke gravely.

Augusta stared down at the child now. Yes. She could see the resemblance now. She never met her grandson. Since they were well-known Aurors they had to remain hidden and felt that Neville was far more protected watched by other members of the Order of the Phoenix. 

Her gaze met Dumbledore’s again. “I’m sorry, what? My son...you must be mistaken. He is a famous Auror who would never allow you-know-who best him.” She frowned at him.

“It is true. Voldemort came for Neville and he killed the two of them before attacking the boy. The boy, despite the unforgivable killing curse being cast on him, lived, only bearing a lighting scar on his forehead as witness to the heinous event.”

“...dead...scar...Neville…He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named…” With a loud thud, Augusta Longbottom fainted.

McGonagall pursed her lips, brows furrowed into a frown. “Do you think he will be alright here? Are you sure there isn’t somewhere else? She seems a bit...off.”

“She is his last living relative, I’m afraid. The charm of his mother’s protection should hold as long as he calls this his home.” Dumbledore replied.

“I see.” She said simply.

He slipped a letter onto the carriage and then stood. McGonagall and Dumbledore stared at the boy for a few moments in silence.

“Well, we’ve no business staying here. We might as well join the celebrations.” Dumbledore said.

“What of the scar?” McGonagall asked, her gaze on his forehead now.

“He will have it forever, but fear not, scars can be useful.” Dumbledore stated as he exited the household with McGonagall in tow but not before she turned the kettle off with a flick of her wand. 

“Is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named actually gone?” McGonagall asked finally, stricken by the thought of him still being alive somewhere.

“Yes. He is gone just as Neville lives.” He was in awe of it himself.

“Goodness.” McGonagall said before falling quiet again, contemplative.

Dumbledore strolled toward the corner of the street with McGonagall in the darkened street. “I suppose I will see you soon, Professor McGonagall.”

She nodded curtly in reply and morphed into a cat and scurried around the corner. Dumbledore took out the illuminator and the street shone with street lights once again. 

“Good luck, Neville.” He whispered before with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

All over the country people who met in secret were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Neville Longbottom -- the boy who lived!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	2. The boy who lied.

Nearly ten years have passed since the unexpected visitors woke up Augusta Longbottom from her slumber and dropped off her grandson. The loss of her son and daughter in law weighed heavily on her but now she had bigger worries. She had to protect the boy who lived from a world scarred by a war abruptly ended by an infant. 

It was the talk of the entire wizarding world that You-Know-Who was gone and the Death Eaters were either caught or in hiding. 

Another tragedy struck the wizarding world only days after the murder of Neville’s parents. Lily and James Potter, who were also Aurors, was unexpectedly attacked and tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange using the Crucius Curse to the point of insanity. They ended up in the Janus Thickey Ward at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, leaving Harry Potter to be raised by his Godfather, Sirius Black.

It was days before Neville’s birthday but Augusta was not worried. The precocious boy displayed magic from a young age. He was the boy who lived, after all. How could he not be anything short of extraordinary? 

When Augusta thought he wasn’t looking; she worried excessively at the notion of him attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Even with You-Know-Who gone; being famous meant he was noticed and that was not always a good thing. Besides that, he resembled his mother quite a bit with his blond hair, round face, and short stature. He had his father’s hazel eyes.

“Are you OK, Gran?” Neville asked tentatively. 

His gran was often staring off into the distance. Her thin and bony frame seemed more prominent and her honey-colored eyes seemed far away. Even the stuffed vulture on her hat seemed more frayed. He had no idea what she was so worried about. She drilled into him about how people might use him for his fame and that dark wizards lurk on every corner even with You-Know-Who gone. Despite his constant reassurance that he’d be careful; he often wondered if his slightly eccentric guardian was a bit paranoid. 

He was excited to head off to Hogwarts. He wanted to go to a real school for once. His Gran home-schooled him thus far. The only other interaction with someone his age was when he went over to Harry Potter’s place. He overheard the Auror Mad-Eye Moody tell Sirius Black that they had to watch out for him. 

“Constant vigilance!” He had cried out when the man with long, messy dark hair, and mustache, told the war-ravaged man with one eye had he was paranoid.

Neville didn’t understand it. You-Know-Who was dead. Why did he need protection? Besides, he couldn’t stand Harry Potter. He was always trying to best him and poked fun at him because he was a bit chubby and not athletic. He couldn’t help that he was a bit clumsy and wasn’t athletically built like him.

“Come on, wide load! Can’t you fly well, yet?” Harry taunted later that very day.

“Oh shut up, Harry!” He called out.

He pulled himself onto the broom and lifted off, zooming toward Harry with increasing speed. Harry’s eyes widened and then smirked as he quickly took off. He was a natural like his father, Sirius would proudly state. Apparently in his eyes; Harry could do no wrong. Neville suspected he knew this, too.

“Catch me if you can, fatass!” Harry taunted. 

Neville zoomed in quickly, trying his best to keep from hitting a tree or worse, into the gnomes who liked to bite him on the nose. 

Harry swooped down suddenly and picked up a Quaffle and flung it at Neville. “Duck!” He laughed wildly; his green eyes sparkled with mischief behind his black rimmed glasses.

Unfortunately, Neville was too close in proximity to duck in time and he was knocked off his broomstick onto the ground. Luckily, they weren’t allowed to fly very high or he might have broken something. Still, the collision was heard and Sirius rushed outside. 

His eyes widened as he took in the scene. A Quaffle laid on the ground as Harry rushing off his broom to Neville who was groaning on the ground. 

“What happened here?” Sirius demanded, his almond eyes widened with a mix of worry and horror.

Harry froze beside Neville. “Oh well we were playing and I was tossing the ball and he failed to catch it...I didn’t mean to!” He stammered out.

Harry leaned in as though to check on him, “Don't tell on me or else.” He whispered to him ominously. 

Despite his words; there was a certain level of concern in his gaze. Neville furrowed his brows and simply nodded in compliance. It was easier that way. Besides, school is starting soon and with any luck they would end up in different houses. 

Gran insisted that he be in Gryffindor. He couldn’t imagine Harry being placed in that house. He was far from brave nor could he tell the truth to save his life. 

“I’m so sorry.” Harry was saying to him loudly.

He was certain he was exaggerating for the sake of his hovering Godfather, but he also hoped that on some level he meant it.

“I’m OK.” He grunted as he stood to his feet. 

Lucky for them; he was fine other than a few scrapes and bruises. Gran could stir quite a fuss when provoked.

“I think you’ve both had enough flying lessons for one day. Come inside and Kreacher will fix you something to eat.” Sirius said to them. "You're lucky it was me present and not Moody. He would have your hides." He added in warning and then headed inside.

Harry sent Neville a cocky smirk as they headed in. School could not get there any faster.

“So, what house do you hope for, Harry?” Sirius asked once Kreacher served their food.

“Oh, I don’t know. It depends, I guess.” He said noncommittally.

“What about you, Neville?” Sirius asked.

“Gran insists on Gryffindor but I suppose the Sorting Hat will decide.” Neville answered.

Harry snorted into his plate. “You’re more of a Hufflepuff to me. You are no lion.” 

Sirius frowned at him, “All of the houses are good choices. I was a Gryffindor, myself. If you are sorted into Hufflepuff then they are lucky to have the boy who lived in their house.” He said with a smile.

Neville turned a bit red. He never knew what to say in response to such things. Harry did, apparently.

“Well it’s not like he did anything. He was just a baby.” Harry glared at Neville as he spoke.

Sirius ruffled Harry’s unruly hair affectionately. “Neville here is the only wizard to have survived the killing curse. That’s pretty special, especially for a baby.”

Harry feigned a smile as he glanced up at him. “Of course, Godfather. That is true.” 

As soon as Sirius turned back, Harry scowled at Neville. He shifted with discomfort in his chair at the gaze. He didn’t know why Harry hated him so much. It occurred to him that he was upset his parents were tortured to insanity when he was a baby. 

Neville felt a pang of guilt. He lost his parents but Harry’s were still alive yet unable to recognize their own son. He figured it must be tough knowing that they were there yet were not. He vowed to himself to be more sympathetic. 

A few days later, Neville awoke with excitement. It was his birthday. He knew he would finally get his letter from Hogwarts. He practically jumped out of bed, got ready, and made his way downstairs. He rushed out to the mailbox before Nan could intercept him. He nearly tripped on the front step as he made his way out. He stared up at the sky, waiting for an owl to appear with his letter. 

His stomach was in knots. What if it never came? What if they thought it was too dangerous for him to go? He thought his was going to jump out of his skin with anticipation. 

Then, out of the sky, an owl swooped down and landed on Neville’s shoulder. He laughed a bit, bemused by his chosen post. He took the letter from him and tore it open without bothering to read the front of the envelope.

He read through the letter and then gave the owl the treat he brought with him. The owl hooted appreciatively and then flew off. Neville ran inside to his gran and waved it at her.

“Look what I got!” He exclaimed proudly. 

She smiled knowingly, “What _could_ it be?” She pretended she had no idea.

“I got the letter! I’m going to Hogwarts!” He exclaimed happily. 

"Well of course you are. You are the boy who lived and destined to be a great wizard.” She beamed proudly. “Happy birthday, Neville!”

Neville didn’t know about all that but he was excited all the same.

“Thanks, Gran.” Although he knew he was sure to get many presents soon; this was by far his favourite birthday present.


	3. The Pure-blood in Diagon Alley.

Soon enough, it was time to buy supplies. Neville was accompanied to Diagon Alley by Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin, another member of the Order of the Phoenix. Remus wore an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes that had been darned in several places. Despite being quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with grey. He had blue eyes that were so light they appeared illuminated. Tagging along was Harry Potter. He had wanted Gran to come but she insisted that it was safer this way. He was secretly glad that the Order members were there because the gaping stares at the lightning bolt on his forehead was nothing short of daunting. 

He could have done without Harry’s presence, though. He did nothing but glower at him as though he asked for this. He hated the attention. It made him nervous. He nearly fell over after tripping over his feet several times. Harry took the opportunity to laugh each time. 

They stopped at Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. The two men conversed animatedly outside while Harry and Neville entered the shop. Lupin didn’t live at Grimmauld Place but the other man was a constant presence. Neville could have sworn he saw them snog before. He sneaked out before they saw him. He sensed it was a private moment.

The two boys found Madam Malkin near the entrance of the shop. She was a squat, smiling witch that was dressed all in mauve.

“Are you both from Hogwarts?” She asked them without looking.

“Yes, we are.” Harry answered for both.

“Got the lot here -- another young man being fitted up just now, in fact." She informed them as she pointed to the back.

In the back of the shop a pale boy with a pointed face, white blond hair and icy grey eyes was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. 

Madam Malkin glanced between Harry and Neville. “Which of you is going first?” She asked.

“Better do him first. I’m sure _his_ will take longer. Good luck fitting his fat ass.” Harry let out a snort at his own joke.

Neville’s ears turned red against his pale skin. 

The boy from the back let out a laugh before Neville could say anything.

“That’s funny. He does have a fat ass, doesn’t he?” He remarked. 

“We’ll have none of that!” Madam Malkin intervened scathingly. Her eyes locked on Neville, and his scar, finally. "Such an honour, Neville Longbottom!" She exclaimed with a flush of the cheeks.

She started on Neville’s fitting first. 

Draco's eyes widened considerably. "Neville Longbottom? Of course, you are." He stated as though he knew all along.

Harry let out an exasperated sigh. "Don't worry about it. He's nothing special." He informed him.

Madam Malkin balked. "You should not say such things! He survived the killing curse from You-Know-Who!" She exclaimed.

“I’m Draco. I’m going to Hogwarts this year.” He stated, pushing forward to shake Neville's hand. Neville tentatively returned it.

“I’m Harry Potter.” He cut in irritably, igniting Madam Malkin’s praise toward Neville.

Draco continued to stare at Neville in utter disbelief, ignoring Harry entirely. "My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." 

He reminded Neville of Harry. _Great._ He thought irritably.

“Have you got your own broom?" The boy went on.

Harry jumped into the conversation quickly. “Yes, of course. If you figure out how to smuggle them in let me know. Then we can drag race against each other and see who’s the better flier.” Harry grinned, a challenging look in his eyes.

Draco regarded Harry this time and smirked. “Prepare to meet my dust.” He challenged. “What about you? Have you got a broom?” He added as he looked Neville over with scrutiny. 

“Yes, I do.” Neville replied. He had no desire to race either of them.

“Don’t bother. He is terrible at riding. We’ll get caught once he runs into his first tree.” Harry started laughing again.

Draco joined him, “I can only imagine.” He sneered. "Doesn't look like much for being the boy who lived, does he?"

“No, he doesn't." Harry agreed. "Believe me, whatever happened to him was a fluke.”

Neville opened his mouth to counter them but then closed it. It wasn’t worth it.

"You're done." The witch who was fitting Draco's robes stated without interest for any of the boys, including Neville Longbottom.

Draco moved closer to the two of them, not acknowledging the witch who had just altered his robes.

“Do you play Quidditch?” Draco asked Harry, purposely ignoring Neville.

“Oh yeah. I plan to try out for one of the teams, depending on what house I’ll be in.” Harry answered.

"I do too-- Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

“No, not yet. My parents were in Gryffindor and so was my Godfather. He’s the one raising me. Then again, he came from a family of Slytherins so it’s hard to say, I guess. As long as I’m not a Hufflepuff!” Harry snorted.

“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been. Imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

“Definitely!” Harry agreed.

“OK, you’re done.” Madam Malkin informed Neville with a beaming smile. 

Harry went up to the stool as Neville hung back, trying to look fascinated by the different robes as not to draw attention to himself.

“Are they your dads?” Draco asked as he pointed outside at Sirius and Lupin.

Neville couldn’t help but look out the window at the same time as Harry.

“Um neither of them are mine. The long-haired one is Harry’s Godfather and that is his friend.” Neville didn’t want to give away their identities to this unfortunate boy.

Harry rolled his eyes. “You mean lovers right??” He stated. 

“Harry!” Neville did not think that was anybody’s business.

”Well they are! Nothing wrong with it.” Harry bluntly stated.

“I know that...” Neville muttered. His ears burned red with embarrassment.

Draco perked a brow, “Lovers?” He scrunched up his face as though he was trying to figure that all out. “Why are they with you? Where are _your_ parents?” He asked Harry instead. 

“My parents are dead too.” Harry lied quickly.

“Oh, sorry,” said the other. Neville was relieved he didn't press it. “But they were _our_ kind, weren’t they?”

“They were witches and wizards, if that’s what they mean.” Neville answered with a perked brow. 

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families."

Before either of them could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," Harry hopped down from the footstool.

Neville spoke up finally. “I think that they are probably just like the rest of us. They can’t help who their parents are. I mean his--” Harry shot him a look that made Neville to shut up quickly, his face turning sheet white.

Draco rolled his eyes at Neville. “Trust me on this. Those filthy Mudbloods should stick with their Muggle filth.” He spat out.

“I’ll take your word for it.” Harry said simply as though he was seriously considering what he was saying.

Neville gaped at them both, his face reddened with fury but didn’t say anything more. Gran had taught him that Muggle-born, Half-blood, Pure-blood, did not matter, as long as they were able to perform magic.

Sirius poked his head in just then. “Are you two done yet?” He asked them.

“We’ve just finished.” Harry replied.

“Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts then?” Draco said to Harry, pointedly ignoring Neville entirely. Not that Neville was complaining.

“Yes, you will. You owe me a race.” Harry returned with a smirk.

They both paid for their robes, with Madam Malkin expressing her gratitude toward Neville for allowing her to fix his robes. Harry rolled his eyes as he headed for the door without waiting for Neville. 

Neville followed after him. He didn’t have to look back at the blond boy to know that he was glaring at him from behind.

He was in a sour mood after they left the shop. Draco left a bad taste in his mouth. Harry was chatty as ever. He tried to remind himself to be nice to Harry. The other boy had almost brought up the incident that might have led to a fight. It wouldn’t be the first time his temper got the better of him. They ate and shopped around some more before they arrived at the shop at the end. It was just past Eeylops Owl Emporium. He and Harry both received owls for their birthdays. Harry named his Hedwig and Neville had named his Trevor. He wanted a toad but he knew Nan would not approve of such a pet.

Peeling gold letters hanging over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. Once again, the two adult men stayed outside while Neville and Harry headed inside.

A tinkling bell rang off from somewhere in the depths of the narrow shop. Harry pushed forward to sit on the chair first. No one stopped him.

Mr. Ollivander regarded Harry with a frown. He was an old man with pale, silvery eyes that seemed to shimmer in the poorly lit shop.

“Hello.” His eyes moved from Harry to Neville. They widened considerably when he realized who he was. 

“Ah, Neville Longbottom. I expected I’d be seeing you soon.” He said. “I don’t believe your parents bought their wands from me so I can’t tell you what the make of them. I heard the good they had done during the war, though. Quite remarkable. I am terribly sorry for your loss.” In the next moment; Mr. Ollivander came so close that he and Neville were almost nose to nose. Neville could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that's where..."Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Neville’s forehead with a long, white finger. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out in the world to do...." He shook his head and then, to Neville’s relief, noticed Harry beside him.

He smoothed out his robes with his wrinkled hands before regarding the other boy. “And you are?” 

“I’m Harry Potter.” He introduced. 

“Ah.” He sent the boy a glance of sympathy. “You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." Mr. Ollivander stated.

Harry, who normally went into a fit when his parents were mentioned; leaned in, transfixed by the man who spoke of his parents.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it -- it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course." He finished after a few moments.

“Well! Let’s get a move on, then.” He spoke into the silence that had filled the room.

Ollivander regarded Harry as he sat on the chair.

“You first, then. Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Neville tuned out Mr. Ollivander and glanced around at the different boxes of wands. He had to smile at the pile building up for the other boy. He wondered if his would be so difficult to find.

“Ah! 13", Cherry, unicorn hair! Good choice! Unicorn hair is the most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts and are known for their faithfulness.” He beamed. 

Neville glanced at Harry as he stared in awe of his own wand before standing up and finally moving out of the way.

Once Neville sat down, Mr. Ollivander started to measure him from all angles. Once he finished, he started to hand him wands to try. He waved them and nothing occurred. His own pile stacked high, next to Harry’s. It seemed to be taking twice as long as the other boy did.

“Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere -- I wonder, now - - yes, why not -- unusual combination --holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple." 

Neville waved the wand and he felt a warmth in his fingertips. He raised the wand above his hand, and sparks came out of the ends, dancing above him like shooting stars.

Mr. Ollivander cried out, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious... "

Neville paled. He did not like the sound of that. “Sorry, but what’s curious?” He tentatively asked.

Mr. Ollivander fixed Neville with his pale stare. “I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Longbottom. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather -- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave you that scar." 

Neville swallowed, unaware of Harry glowering at him.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember...I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Longbottom. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things -- terrible, yes, but great."

He shivered at the thought of his wand being even remotely related to You-Know-Who. It was an absurd and frightening thought. 

“Sure, he is.” Harry cut in with a roll of his eyes. “Come on, then. Let’s get going.”

Neville shook himself out of it and stood to his feet. They both paid for their wands and left the shop. The four of them headed down the road without another word. Neville didn’t want to talk about his wand any more than Harry did. When he glanced over at him; his expression was sullen. For one selfish moment; Neville wished that Harry was the boy who lived, and he was just some normal wizard about to start school. He shrank away from the wide, star-struck eyes of wizards as they passed them. No. He wouldn’t wish this curse on anyone.

He was thankful to see his gran waiting for him to Apparate back to their place. 

“Thank you for taking me.” He said to Sirius and Remus.

"You are very welcome. Please do be careful.” Remus advised with a smile.

“Welcome. Be safe.” Sirius mirrored.

“Of course.” Neville responded. “Bye, Harry. See you soon.” He mustered up a smile.

“See you.” Harry replied coldly and then turned to head home with the two men.

“How was shopping?” Gran asked him.

“Fine, I suppose.” Neville stared after Harry a bit sadly. He didn’t understand why he disliked him so much.

“Oh, he’s just jealous.” Nan said as though she could read his mind.

“Why? I hate having people stare at me all the time.” Neville complained.

“Some people...just need to feel special.” Gran gravely replied.

Neville could see her point. Draco seemed to be the same way. He didn’t understand it one bit.

“Let’s head home and you can show me what you bought.” Gran cut through his thoughts.

Neville was all too eager to oblige. It had been a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For certain scenes it was necessary to copy/paste some of the content from the book. I reiterate that I do not own J.K. Rowling's characters or the masterpiece series she created.


	4. The wizards with flaming red hair.

On September 1st, Neville stood before the wall that led to Platform 9 ¾ with his Gran, Sirius, Lupin, and Harry. They both pushed trolleys with the cage with Hedwig, and Trevor, their owls.

“Be sure to write me and be careful.” Gran was saying as she held him tight, ignoring the nosy stares around them.

“I will Gran, I promise.” Neville replied.

Harry had been ignoring Neville since they went shopping at Diagon Alley. That suited him just fine; he wasn’t fond of the idea of speaking to Harry at the moment either. 

“I’ll keep you updated.” Harry was saying. “I’ll try to keep an eye on him.” 

“I don’t need a babysitter!” Neville couldn’t help but interject.

“Of course not. I meant to watch out for each other.” Sirius added quickly. 

He had a feeling he only said it to make him feel better but Neville had no intention of pressing it. 

“Tsk. If only you acknowledged your importance. You’d see why people want to protect you.” Gran stated.

Lupin narrowed his eyes at her. 

“Of course, we want you to be able to take care of yourself.” She added, looking slightly ruffled. “But there is nothing wrong with others caring enough to have your back.” Nan sent Lupin a stern look.

“Yes, Gran. I understand.” Neville said even though he didn’t, not entirely anyway. 

“Be good, then.” Gran hugged him close, turning her head as though she didn’t want Neville to see the tears. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, Gran.” 

Once he pulled back from her; he pushed his trolley along closer in line with the wall.

Harry quickly pushed past him, hissing in a low tone. “Even though You-Know-Who is gone; we can’t let the precious boy who lived get harmed.” He taunted.

“Shut up, Harry.” He returned with a scowl. 

Sirius and Lupin hovered behind Harry and Neville as they walked.

Another family was in front of them as they approached. There were five kids present. They all sported flaming red hair. A short, plump woman was hurrying them along. Neville waited patiently. Harry let out an exasperated sigh and moved forward.

“Hurry up.” He spoke loudly as he centered himself in front of the wall. The mass of redheads seemed taken aback. 

“Where are your manners, young man?” The mother figure scolded.

Harry ignored them and hurried on through. Neville turned back to the two men who looked a bit bemused.

“I’ll follow him.” Sirius said with a chuckle.

Neville frowned and turned to the family. “Sorry about him. He’s just excited.” He didn’t know why he was sticking up for Harry at this point.

The family of gingers turned their heads and gaped at him.

“Blimey, you’re Neville Longbottom!” The youngest boy exclaimed loudly.

He was tall, lanky with big hands and feet, and had a long nose. 

“Ron! Hush!” The woman sharply stated.

Ron scowled unhappily.

“Sorry, dear. Hasn't any tact, that one. I’m Molly Weasley.” She introduced. “The oldest one there is Percy and the twins are Fred and George. As you heard before, that’s Ron, and this is Ginny. She is too young to go just yet.”

“Only a year behind.” The young one turned crimson.

“Nice to meet you all.” Neville said in reply to the flurry of hellos.

“Hope to see you on the other side.” The one who was pointed out as Fred stated.

“Yes, not too many die a horrible death while going through the wall.” George cheekily added.

“That’s enough!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. “Perfectly safe. Run along, you lot.”

Percy, who remained nonplussed by the whole ordeal, went first. Then Fred and George. Finally, Ron moved on through.

Neville, who previously wasn’t nervous at all, kept thinking about what Fred and George said. _They had to have been joking_. He reasoned. He shook himself out of it, concentrating on the task at hand. 

He rushed quickly toward the wall and easily went through the wall to Platform 9 ¾. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and pushed the trolley toward the train with the flurry of students gathering on the platform. 

Neville took in the scenery around him quietly. He didn’t grow up around a lot of wizards so he found it fascinating and overwhelming all at once.

“Mum. Geroff!” Ron was squirming from his mum as she rubbed dirt from his nose.

“Aah, has Ickle Ronnie get somefink on his nosie?” Said one of the twins.

“Shut up,” said Ron.

“Where’s Percy?” Said their mum.

“He’s coming now.”

Neville glanced toward the eldest son, Percy. He was already dressed in his robes. He had a shiny silver badge on his chest with the letter P on it. 

“Can’t stay long, mum.” He said. “I’m up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves—”

“Oh, are you a _prefect_ , Percy?” Said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. “You should have said something; we had no idea.”

“Hand on, I think I remember him saying something about it,” Said the other twin. “Once”

“Or twice--”

“A minute--”

“All summer--”

“Oh, shut up.” Said Percy the Prefect.

Neville chuckled as the banter continued. Something about an exploding toilet and the Perfect getting new robes. 

As Lupin helped Neville with his luggage, he heard the youngest girl crying, as their mum was hugging her four sons goodbye one by one. Neville felt a pang of jealousy. Although he had Gran, he never had a mum or siblings to fight with. Unless one counted Harry and he didn’t think he qualified.

Neville waved goodbye to Lupin and Sirius before he got on the train. He glanced around, searchingly. Harry was probably already seated by now. He headed toward the back, keeping an eye out for an empty compartment. He finally found one and settled in. He couldn’t believe he was finally going to Hogwarts.

The boy who introduced himself as Ron approached. “Anyone sitting there? Everywhere else is full.” 

“Go ahead.” Neville said with a slight shrug.

Ron sat down, staring at his scar. “Blimey. Are you really Neville Longbottom?”

“That’s me.” Neville confirmed, suppressing an eyeroll.

“So that’s where you-know-who” Ron blatantly pointed at his scar.

“Yes, but I don’t remember it.” Neville stated. He noticed Ron still had dirt on his nose.

“Nothing?” Said Ron eagerly.

“Well—-I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else.”

Ron gaped at Neville a bit longer before realizing what he was doing. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

A smiling, dimpled woman opened the corridor. “Anything off the cart, dears?”

Neville hadn’t eaten much because of nerves so he was starved.

“A bit of everything.” He said as he pulled out some money from his pockets. He didn’t like to advertise the fact his parents left him a great deal of money in Gringotts but the lure of sweets was too strong. 

Ron stared at him incredulously and then ruefully turned to the woman. “None for me.”

Ron took out a roast beef sandwich as the woman moved away. “Mum always forgets I hate roast beef.” He scrunched up his face in disgust.

“You can have some of mine.” Neville offered. “I don’t mind it.”

Ron smiled at him and grabbed some of the treats. “Thanks. Didn’t get any money for snacks. There being four of us and all. Can’t even get anything new. I’ve got Bill’s old robes, Charlie’s old wand, and Percy’s old Owl, Pig.”

“Wish I'd had three wizard brothers." Neville admitted a bit wistfully.

"Five," said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left -- Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first.” He explained.

“The only thing I’ve had that was remotely close to a sibling was Harry, and you saw how he was.” They exchanged glances and burst out laughing.

They both reached for the chocolate frogs and opened them eagerly. 

“I have most of the cards, myself.” Ron stated proudly.

“Me too.” Neville admitted with a grin.

They glanced at their cards and laughed. “Dumbledore!” They said in unison. Neville had far too many of his cards. 

He stared down at it now, realizing he was going to be their Headmaster for the next seven years.

Harry turned over his card and read:

_ALBUS DUMBLEDORE CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS_

_Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling._

Neville was intrigued by the notion of meeting a wizard he heard so much about.

They fell into silence as they ate their sweets. Neville near spat out a grass flavored Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Bean, causing Ron to roar in laughter. Neville couldn’t help but join him.

“What house do you think you’ll be in?” Neville asked after swallowing the last bit of a Cauldron Cake.

Ron spoke, his mouth was still full. "Gryffindor." Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad but imagine if they put me in Slytherin.” He his eyes bugged out at the very idea.

“My Gran says I have to be in Gryffindor, so I know what you mean.” Neville said. “Sirius says that all houses are good choices. He was a Gryffindor but he came from a family of Slytherins.” He lowered his voice considerably. “His family _is_ a bit dodgy, though.” He told him.

“That’s Slytherin, for ya.” Ron agreed with a nod of his head.

“What is? The fact that Slytherin would never let in the likes of you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." Draco sneered as he stepped in front of their corridor.

Neville was looking at the two scowling boys on either side of Draco. They were thickset and wore hostile scowls. They looked like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Neville was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him. "Think my name's funny, do you? Your family’s the joke, Weasley.”

He turned back to Neville, "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there. Ditch the git and come sit with us."

Neville didn’t understand why, after the incident in Diagon Alley, he wanted to befriend him. 

“Yeah, Neville. He looks like a loser. You don’t want to be the boy who was a loser, do you?” Taunted Harry as he approached them. 

Neville groaned. It made sense, now. Apparently, he took ‘watch out for Neville’ as ‘indoctrinate him in with the bullies’.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks. "I'd be careful if I were you, Longbottom," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and it'll rub off on you."

Crabbe, Goyle, and Harry all laughed in response. Ron stood up. His hands were curled into tight fists. 

Neville turned toward his new friend, “They aren’t worth it.”

Ron remained standing but didn’t step forward.

Neville’s gaze fell directly on Draco, his eyes narrowing considerably. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."

Before anything could happen; Harry interjected. “I’ll buy us all more candy. We don’t want anything tainted by losers.” 

Draco considered this for a moment and then slapped at Crabbe and Goyle’s hands as they reached for the candy. They had not yet caught up with what Harry said. “He’s right. Let’s go.” Draco stated. With that, they strolled off. 

Harry cast Neville a rather dark look before following them. Neville stared after him incredulously. _Did he just in his own weird way, save us from a fight?_

A voice interrupted Neville from his thoughts. 

"What has been going on? I heard yelling." She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, and rather large front teeth. 

“Just some bullies trying to hassle us.” Neville truthfully stated.

“Oh. Well it’s best to ignore them, really. I’m Hermione Granger, who are you?” She said all in one breath.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

“I’m Neville.” He said.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course -- I got a few extra books. for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.”

“Yeah.” Neville’s pale cheeks turned bright red. He had read through the books, of course, but still found it strange that others knew all about him as well.

Ron rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Neville. "You've met Malfoy before?" 

Neville explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley.

"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." He turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?”

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there.” She informed them. “You really ought to be more careful. You’ll get in trouble before you get there!”

“No one’s fighting!” Ron said with a scowl. "Would you mind leaving while we change?"

"All right -- I only came here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermione in a sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

Ron glared at her as she left.

Neville peered out of the window. It was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down.

He and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. Ron's were a bit short for him, you could see his sneakers underneath them.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Neville chewed on his lip anxiously. _This is it. I’ve made it._ Ron, he saw, looked pale under his freckles. They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Neville shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students.

A giant of a man appeared before them. His face was almost completely covered by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but one could easily tell that his chestnut colored eyes, shone with kindness.

“Firs' years! Firs' years over here!”

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me -- any more firs' years? I‘m Hagrid. I’ll be guidin’ yeh lot. Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!”

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. Neville wasn’t much of a fan of the dark. One never knew what was lurking in it. Ever since he was a child, he hated the dark. Even though he didn’t remember the night his parents were killed something about it sent chills down his spine.

Nobody spoke much. He didn’t even hear Harry, who usually covered any stretch of silence.

“Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. 

Neville and Ron were followed into their boat by Hermione and a rather pale, weedy, tall boy, with brown hair. He eyed the trio with a scrutinizing gaze. His caramel colored eyes lingered on Neville for only a moment before turning away with a look of indifference, discouraging the other two from introducing themselves.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then---FORWARD!"

The fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face.

They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

Hagrid checked the boats as people climbed out of them. They clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here?” Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

Neville couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief that they were heading out of the darkness.


	5. The two choices.

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a rather stern face that immediately reminded Neville of Gran. He felt a pang of sadness. As excited as he was about being at Hogwarts; it was going to be an adjustment being away from Gran for so long.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall." said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was a large and open space. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors. 

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Neville could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall.

They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously. 

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall.

"The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

She eyed the crowd of first years with scrutiny. "I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly." She left the chamber. 

Neville ran his fingers through his hair and smoothed out his robe while Ron tried to get rid of the smudge off his nose.

Neville swallowed down a lump in his throat. “How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he asked Ron quietly.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.” 

Neville’s bugged out almost comically. _A test? In front of everyone?_ He wondered what that would entail. He was far from inept--except when it had to do with a sporting activity. 

They heard voices behind them. Several students gasped. Neville quickly turned around to see what the commotion was. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, the ghosts glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. Neville curiously observed the ghosts as they passed. He knew they existed but he had never seen any himself. He paid little mind to what they were saying; he was more interested in their appearance and movements.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" One of the ghosts, he recalled was called the Fat Friar called out. "My old house, you know.”

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony Is about to start." Professor McGonagall had returned. 

One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

They did as they were told, and then Professor McGonagall led them through the doors into the Great Hall. It was lit by several thousand candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. The tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. 

They followed Professor McGonagall to the front. They came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. Hundreds of faces stared back at them like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver.

He heard Hermione whisper, “"Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

Neville glanced upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. Even though he grew up with magic; it was a sight to behold.

Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. She put a pointed wizard’s hat on top of the stool. The hat was patched, frayed and extremely dirty.

Neville stared curiously at the tattered hat. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth -- and the hat began to sing:

" _Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuff is are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_if you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folks use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on!_

_Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_ "

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So, we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Neville. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Neville shook his head, smirking at Ron. “And you believed him?” He teased him.

“Shut up!” Ron retorted, though he sported a rather sheepish grin. 

Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” She said. “Abbott, Hannah!”

A pink-faced girl with blond pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause—

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat. 

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Neville saw the ghost that he remembered being called the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

Professor McGonagall made her way through the A’s and onward down the alphabetized list of first years.

For some, the hat seemed to know which house to choose right away. For others, it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," a sandy-haired boy sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!" Hermione almost ran to the stool and eagerly placed the hat on top of her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned.

“Longbottom, Neville.” Professor McGonagall called out.

The whole room went deathly silent for a moment. Gradually, loud whispers filled the air. Neville turned beat red.

“Longbottom, did she say?”

“The Neville Longbottom?”

He hated the way everyone acted like he was a spectator sport. He forced himself forward. He kept his eyes focused on his feet so that he would not trip over them. He managed to make it to the chair, unscathed, and sat down.

The last thing Neville saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him.

He winced as a voice filled his ears. “Hmm. Let’s see. You’re a hard worker with endless patience. You’re also brave with plenty of courage to spare. Where to place you?” The voice mused.

 _Please be Gryffindor. Please be Gryffindor. Gran will kill me if I’m not in that house._ He inwardly pleaded. 

“Are you sure? Your loyalty and dedication is admirable.”

For a brief moment, Neville considered the hat’s words. It did seem like he would fit in with the Hufflepuff household. He then thought of Ron and Hermione and decided that he wanted to be a Gryffindor, with or without Gran’s insistence. 

“Well, if you're sure--better be GRYFFINDOR!” The voice boomed out. 

Neville was all too eager to take off the hat as he stood. He handed it to "MacDougal, Morag.” absently and made his way towards the Gryffindor table. He forced his gaze back down to his feet so they did not betray him. He was so busy trying not to trip; he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet.

As he approached, Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Longbottom! We got Longbottom! Merlin, what a mouthful!”

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, the one who guided them to the castle. In a large golden chair, in the center of the High Table, sat Albus Dumbledore. 

Neville recognized him immediately. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts.

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon" "Nott" "Parkinson" then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" then "Perks, Sally-Anne" and then, at last, "Potter, Harry!"

Neville watched Harry as he confidently approached the chair, with a cocky smirk. He sat down and placed the hat on his head. The hat deliberated for at least five minutes. The whole room went silent, eager to learn the outcome of this particularly long sorting. 

Finally, it yelled out, “SLYTHERIN!”

The Slytherin table cheered as Harry approached and sat next to Draco.

Neville frowned slightly. He was conflicted. He was relieved that Harry couldn’t torment him within the same house, yet he had also kept the two hulking boys from pounding on them. He shook himself out of his thoughts as the Sorting continued.

There were only three people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a boy with russet eyes and ebony skin joined Neville at the Gryffindor table. He towered over the first years. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. Seconds after the hat touched his head, it had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Neville clapped loudly with the rest of the table as Ron collapsed into the chair next to him.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. 

Neville’s stomach rumbled with hunger. The sweets he consumed earlier seemed like ages ago. He stared longingly at the gold plate. 

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" 

“Thank you!" He sat back down. 

Neville clapped and cheered along with everyone else. A pleasant aroma filled his nostrils as the dishes in front of him became piled with food. The table was filled with a variety of different foods. There was roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and peppermint humbugs.

"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Ron cut up his steak,

"Can't you --?" Ron inquired.

I haven't eaten for nearly four hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly.

"My brothers told me about you-- you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy --" the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.

"Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So -- new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable -- he's the Slytherin ghost."

Neville glanced over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. Neither Harry nor Draco seemed pleased with the seating arrangements. Neville couldn't imagine how one could have an appetite while sitting near such a horrific display.

How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.

"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding, and a variety of other sweets.

"I'm half-and-half," Seamus was saying. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him.” Neville laughed alongside them.

On the other side of the table, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons ("I do hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult-"; "You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing -- ").

Neville glanced up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. The professor with the turban, was talking to another professor with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past the other man, straight into Neville’s eyes and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Neville’s forehead.

Neville let out a yelp as he clapped a hand to his forehead.

"What is it?" asked Percy.

"N-nothing." Neville stammered out.

The pain ceased as quickly as it had come. He rubbed the part of his forehead where the scar was, bewildered. Neville couldn’t shake off the way the hook-nosed teacher’s hateful gaze bore into him.

“Who are they?” He asked Percy as he pointed out two of the professors at the High Table. One of them had dark hair and the other wore a turban.

"That’s Professor Snape.” He gestured to the dark-haired professor discreetly. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to.

“And that's Professor Quirrell. He teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts. Everyone knows Snape is after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Neville avoided Snape's gaze for the rest of the night.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent. 

"Ahern -- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. 

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

“And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Neville gulped, his face paling slightly.

"He's not serious?" He muttered to Percy.

"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere -- the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore.

Neville thought he was joking until he orchestrated a strange song pertaining to Hogwarts. He watched them with a bemused grin but didn’t try to sing along. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the Weasley twins choosing a slow funeral march. Neville cheered with the rest of the school once they concluded singing.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Neville tripped up the stairs once or twice but luckily none of the other students noticed. He did hear snickering from the portraits, which made his ears burn bright red.

There were so many twists and turns; Neville was not sure how he was going to find his way around without getting lost. They climbed multiple staircases, yawning and dragging their feet. Neville was wondering how much further they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them, they started throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves --show yourself"

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?" 

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked. “Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished. Neville gasped in surprise as the walking sticks dropped onto the floor next to him. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as they set off again. “The Bloody Baron, the Slytherin ghost, is the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said. "Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase--they were obviously in one of the towers--they found their beds at last: Each of their four-posters hung with deep red velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed. Neville fell asleep almost at once.

Neville was plagued with strange dreams. He was wearing Professor Quirrell’s turban as he stood on the staircase. He continually climbed them without being able to reach a destination. The Poltergeist, Peeves, floated above him and laughed at his struggles. The staircase changed then, and winded sideways instead. He came across Harry, who told him to follow him. He had led him to a dead end, pointing and laughing at him as he jumped through the red brick wall. Professor Snape’s cold glare taunted him through the wall, causing Neville to shiver. As he turned away, there was a flash of green light. He woke up sweating and shaking.

He rolled over and fell asleep again. While he could not recall the dream the next day; he was left with an irksome, foreboding feeling he couldn’t seem to shake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For certain scenes it was necessary to copy/paste some of the content from the book. It will occur far less as I wrap up the 'set up' chapters.
> 
> Tell me what you think of so far!


	6. The trouble with potions and flying.

As soon as Neville left his dormitory, hushed whispers and blatant stares followed him everywhere he went. He tried his best to ignore it, but it was a tiresome task, especially when he was trying to navigate the school without getting lost. 

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up making it imperative to remember to jump. Then there were the doors wouldn’t open unless it was asked politely, or tickled in exactly the right place, and doors that weren’t really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was difficult to remember it all because the staircases were always changing.

The ghosts didn’t help, either. It was always a nasty shock when they glided through a door one was simultaneously trying to enter. It caused Neville to trip over himself several times. He was quickly nicknamed “the clumsiest boy who lived” by the Slytherins, which only made matters worse. He was thankful that Ron stood by him and told those who were teasing to “sod off”. Neville, who never had problems standing up for himself before; started retreating into himself. He had never experienced being around this many people, let alone a group of them mercilessly teasing him.

Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to help Gryffindors to find their way. Peeves the Poltergeist, on the other hand, was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if one ran into him when late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on student’s heads, pull rugs from under their feet, sneak behind unsuspecting victims while invisible, grab their nose and screech, “GOT YOUR CONK!” This made Neville’s reputation for being clumsy all the more notorious.

Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Neville and Ron somehow ended up on the wrong side of the school one day. As it turned out, it was the entryway to the forbidden corridor on the third floor. Filch wouldn’t believe they were lost and threatened to lock them in the dungeons because he believed that they were trying to break in. Neville and Ron were simultaneously trying to talk their way out of it, when Professor Quirrell, who was luckily passing by, saved them.

Filch owned a cat named Mrs. Norris. She was a scrawny, dust-coloured creature with bulging, lamp like eyes just like Filch. She was just as meddlesome as Filch himself. If one rule was broken, she’d whisk off to get Filch. He knew the secret passages better than anyone, except perhaps the Weasley twins, so he’d appear out of nowhere, wheezing, moments later. All of the students hated them both.

The classes themselves weren’t so bad once found. Herbology with Professor Sprout was easily his favourite subject. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses and learned how to take care of all the plants and fungi and learned what they were used for. It never failed to fascinate him.

The most boring class was History of Magic. He found the subject itself fascinating but Professor Binns, a ghost, droned on in a monotone voice that made it unbearably dull. He was rather old when he died while sitting in the staff room. The next day he got up to teach, leaving his body behind. Despite how boring his class was; he had to admire a teacher that was so dedicated, not even death stopped him.

Charms was taught by a tiny little wizard named Professor Flitwick. When he called out Neville’s name during roll call, he let out an excited squeak and toppled out of sight. Neville sank in his seat, mortified.

He was right to think Professor McGonagall was not a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

“Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts,” she said. “Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.”

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all impressed and couldn’t wait to get started. They soon learned, however, that they weren't going to be changing the furniture any time soon. After taking complicated notes, they were each given a match to turn into a needle. By the end of the class only Hermione Granger managed to make any difference to her match. Professor McGonagall showed the class how it became silver and pointy while giving Hermione a rare smile.

The class everyone looked forward to was Defense against the Dark Arts. As it turned out, Professor Quirrell’s lesson turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. Especially since when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather.

His turban had a strange odor coming from it. The Weasley twins insisted it was stuffed full of garlic but Neville didn’t think it smelled the same as his classroom. Garlic was overpowering but the odor from his turban was just plain odd. Ron shrugged it off dismissively when he mentioned it to him.

Friday was an important day for Harry and Ron. They finally made it to breakfast without getting lost.

“We got Double Potions with Professor Snape today.” Neville stated as he poured sugar on his porridge.

“With Slytherin.” Ron frowned at the thought. “Snape’s Head is Slytherin House. They say he always favors them—-we’ll be able to see if it’s true.”

“I hope not. He’s a teacher, he has to be fair, right?” Mused Neville.

“McGonagall doesn’t favor us and she’s the Head of Gryffindor.” Neville added, thinking of the loads of homework she gave them.

Neville couldn’t help but be nervous about Potions. At the start-of-term feast Professor Snape gave him the impression he didn’t like him. By the end of their first lesson he knew he’d been wrong. Snape didn’t dislike him—he hated him. Strangely enough, he seemed to hate Harry just as much despite being a Slytherin.

Potions took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder than the rest of the main castle, and creepy with or without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, stopped at Neville’s name.

“Ah, yes.” He said softly. “Our new— _celebrity._ ”

Neville could hear Draco, Harry, Crabbe and Goyle snigger into their hands. Harry stopped abruptly when Snape’s cold, dark eyes fell on him for a moment before turning away. The other Slytherins followed suit soon after that.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making.” He began.

Snape spoke quietly, barely above a whisper, yet like Professor McGonagall, had the gift of keeping the class quiet effortlessly.

“As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you to really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren’t as big a bunch of sunset heads as I usually have to teach.”

Silence filled the classroom. Neville and Ron exchanged nervous glances while Hermione sat on the edge of her seat, eager to prove herself.

“Potter!” Said Snape suddenly. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” 

Neville turned his head towards him. Harry shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “I don’t know, sir.” He said after a moment. 

Neville rolled his eyes at his relaxed stance, though he could have sworn he looked slightly uneasy. He turned back to the front as Hermione’s hand shot up into the air.

Snape pointedly ignored her as he sneered at Harry. “As a member of my house; I expect better than this.” He hissed out.

Snape was still ignoring Hermione’s quivering hand.

“Let’s try again. Where would you look if I told you where to find me a bezoar?” 

Neville turned his head again. Harry’s arrogant demeanor faltered as whole body tensed and his skin had paled.

“I don’t know, sir.” Neville was shocked by Harry’s timid voice.

Draco shifted in his seat as he turned away from Harry, distancing himself from him as though he was afraid that he would be considered guilty by association. Crabbe and Goyle remained blissfully ignorant. Neville rolled his eyes as he turned away.

“Since you seem unimpressed by Potter’s lack of effort to study, do you know the answer to either of the questions?” Snape drawled out. 

Neville went stiff. He was sure he knew at least one of the answers. He took care to study over the summer. In that moment, though, he was drawing a blank.

He could hear Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle snickering again. Strangely he did not hear Harry join in.

“No? How about the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

Neville’s mind was racing. He knew the answer yet he couldn’t come up with it.

“I don’t know, sir.” He meekly replied.

At this point, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

“Ah, fame _clearly_ isn’t everything.” Snape drawled out.

More snickering came from the back, this time Harry had joined them.

Neville’s face reddened. He was sick of being teased, laughed, pointed at, and the source of invasive stares.

“I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you ask her?” Neville replied calmly, repressing the ire that brewed beneath the surface.

Several people laughed, including Seamus, who winked when he caught Neville’s eye. Snape, however, was not pleased.

“Sit down,” Snape snapped at Hermione. “For your information, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren’t you all writing that down?”

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchments. Over the noise, Snape said, “And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Longbottom.”

Things did not improve for the Gryffindor House. Snape swept around in his long black robe criticizing everyone but Draco, whom he seemed to like. 

“Idiot!” Snape hissed at Harry. “Don’t you dare add that! You will ruin your potion. Look at the way Draco masterfully stewed the horned slugs! Can’t you follow even the most simplistic instructions?” 

For the first time, since the day they met, Harry sputtered over his words. Draco sent Harry an aggravated look. Yet, upon closer inspection, there seemed to be something akin to sympathy in his gaze.

Neville must have been too busy mulling it over because the next thing he knew Ron’s cauldron melted to a twisted blob, and their potion was sweeping across the floor, burning holes into people’s shoes. Neville instinctively maneuvered backwards away from the liquid as it melted, narrowly missing being drenched in the potion. 

“Idiot boy!” snarled Snape as he cleared the spilled potion away with a wave of the wand. “I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?”

Neville glanced down at his book and then nodded silently, his ears burning bright red. 

“Stupid, careless mistake. That’s another point from Gryffindor.” 

Neville and Ron remained quiet.

An hour later, Neville trudged up the stairs from the dungeon. He lost two points from Gryffindor in the first week. _Why did Snape hate him so much?_

As Harry and Draco passed Neville; he noticed Harry’s downcast expression. For someone who was supposedly biased in favor of his own house; Snape sure seemed to hate Harry. He was about to say something when Harry glared at him in such a way that he instantly shut his mouth. Draco snickered beside him and started whispering to Harry quietly as they hurried ahead.

Ron glared at them as they left and then turned back to Neville. “Cheer up. Snape’s always taking points off of Fred and George.” He didn’t seem to notice or care that Snape also seemed to hate Harry.

On Tuesday, much to Neville’s dismay, flying lessons were set to begin.

“Flying is awesome. Haven’t you been on a broom before?” Ron asked as they ate their breakfast.

“Yes, but I--am not good at it.” Neville admitted. “Harry made fun of me for it all the time.”

“Oh well, you can’t be the worst one. I bet there are some who have never been on a broom before!” Ron reassured him.

“I’ve never been on a broom before.” Hermione interjected. “I’m sure you will do much better than me.” 

Neville smiled slightly, unconvinced, but he did feel a bit better about it. Especially since for once Hermione seemed nervous about a subject. He supposed it was because it wasn’t something one could study. Neville secretly wished there was a way to study how to fly better. _I can’t even manage to keep from tripping over my own feet._

“I already got a bunch of nicknames. I don’t need Harry or Draco to find new ones.” Neville said miserably.

Ron frowned. “Well I don’t know about Harry but I know Malfoy is always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, and I bet that’s all talk.”

Draco did tend to go on about flying quite a bit. Especially with Harry. They were always complaining loudly about first years never getting on the Quidditch teams and how they should change the rules about first years getting brooms. Harry spoke up about catching the snitch from a fifty-foot drop. Despite his obvious lie, he did seem to have a knack for catching things mid-air. Draco always tried to top Harry’s stories with his own. They always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters.

They weren’t the only ones who spoke about their abilities. Seamus Finnigan bragged about spending most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. It was either that or Quidditch. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Neville had caught Ron prodding Dean's poster of West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players move. Neville remained uninterested but he wasn’t about to admit that. He’d just nod along with whatever Ron said. 

The only other person as uninterested in Quidditch was Hermione. She was also the only one who seemed legitimately interested when he spoke at length about Herbology. It was by far his favourite subject and he couldn’t get enough of it. He even took out library books about the different plants and their magical properties. It was nice to have someone to talk to about it that didn’t quickly try to change the subject to Quidditch.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Neville, Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance. The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. 

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" She barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Neville eyed his broom with a frown. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!’" 

“UP!” Everyone shouted.

They gaped at Harry as his shot up almost automatically. Neville’s hadn’t moved at all. Hermione’s simply rolled over. He caught the jealous look Draco gave at Harry’s success. His broom hadn’t moved either.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end. She walked up and down the rows correcting their grips.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle -- three-- two--one!” 

Everyone took off into the air. Neville took care to be extra cautious. He did not want to end up crashing or anything. He was determined to for once not make a fool out of himself flying.

Harry shot up so high he couldn’t hear Madam Hooch yell for him to come down. Draco laughed and zoomed up after him. Neville could only stare up at them. 

“Fetch!” He faintly heard Draco yelled out to Harry as he threw a round object at Neville.

Neville’s eyes bugged out as he tried to get out of the way as Harry darted down toward the object with a grin on his face. As it got closer Neville realized it was a Remembrall that was probably stolen from an unsuspecting victim. 

Neville screamed as he crashed into the ground, fully expecting Harry to land on top of him. Instead, he unexpectedly caught it while hovering over Neville’s fallen form, several feet up in the air. Everyone gaped at him in silence for a moment and then cheered. Neville groaned as he remained on his back, the broken broom laid next to him. 

“Hey look, it’s the boy who fell on his fat ass!” Draco laughed as he zoomed back down, leveling with Harry.

Everyone else was back on the ground already.

“Yeah! Hey but look he’s alive so I guess he still is the boy who lived!” Harry added, though it was halfheartedly. He seemed to at least understand the potential danger that Draco put him in. 

“Sod off, both of you!” Ron yelled out loudly, his cheeks matched the color of his hair. 

“That’s quite enough, all of you.” Madam Hooch said as she reached the ground. “Get back to the ground, now!” She demanded.

Harry and Draco lowered themselves back onto the ground.

“Are you alright? Do you need to go to the hospital wing?” Madam Hooch asked Neville in a slightly softer tone as she crouched down beside him.

“No, I'm OK.” Neville said softly.

She checked him over but nothing appeared to be broken.

“Are you alright, mate?” Ron asked as he approached with Hermione in tow. 

“Yes, I’m fine.” Neville meekly replied.

“Are you sure? Is anything broken?” Hermione added in a worried tone.

“I’m fine, guys, honestly.” Neville reassured them.

Ron reached his hand out to help him up. Neville took it and hoisted himself up to his feet.

Madam Hooch’s fiery gaze fell on Draco and Harry.

“You two! I won’t have this sort of nonsense in my class!” She hissed. “25 points from Slytherin!” 

Harry and Draco opened their mouth to object but she cut them off. “No! I ought to give you both detention!” She paused, “But I wouldn’t want you to miss Quidditch trials so you both have better be there!” She growled at them.

Harry and Draco exchanged bewildered expressions.

Madam Hooch had already turned away from them. “Now. Put your brooms back in line. Class dismissed!” She leaned over to Neville. “Not you. You take it easy.” She said softly, her intense gaze, discouraged him from arguing.

He limped toward the castle without looking back.


	7. The tryout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to add Draco's POV to get a more diversified perspective. It will now switch between Neville and Draco periodically. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!

After the class finally dispersed, Draco snickered. He glanced over at Harry. “Did you see the look on his fat face?” He widened his eyes and slacked his jaw in imitation. “The boy who lived...what rubbish!”

Once he calmed down, Draco frowned. He realized he was the only one laughing. Harry was being rather quiet. His imitation was brilliant. He opened his mouth to ask when the irritating sound of the Weasel behind him cut him off.

“What a prat. Don’t see why he should get to try out for Quidditch after what he did.” Weasel complained loudly.

Draco turned around and sneered at him and some Gryffindor with sandy blond hair and grayish Blue eyes.

“What's wrong? Mad I could have hurt your little boyfriend?” Draco taunted.

Weasel's ears turned beet red. “He’s not my boyfriend! Real friends have each other’s backs. Got any of those?” He eyed Harry. “Probably not.”

The other Gryffindor laughed. “Who’d be friends with the likes of you?

“For your information, I would. What about you, Finnigan? Trying to latch onto fame by hanging with his lame sidekick?” Harry chimed in.

Finnigan narrowed his gaze, “No, unlike you lot; Gryffindors aren’t a bunch of power-hungry Death Eater wannabes!” He barked.

Harry stepped forward then, going head to head with Finnigan. He pulled out his wand and pointed at the other boy menacingly. Finnigan took out his own and aimed it at him. Draco and Weasel automatically grabbed their own wands from their robes. Harry and the Irish git's chests were puffed out as they stared each other down. Normally, Draco would encourage a fight but Madam Hooch just told them to come try out for Quidditch. They’d get their revenge later. 

He approached his friend tentatively, careful not to aim his wand at anyone. “Come on, Harry; unlike these losers, we were invited to Quidditch tryouts personally by Madam Hooch.” He smirked smugly at them.

Harry and Finnigan continued to glare at each other for a moment before stepping back, still seething. Everyone put away their wands.

“See? I have loyal friends. Unlike you I don’t dig in the dumpsters for just anyone.” Draco gave the Mudblood a pointed look as she approached.

“What is going on here?” She chimed in with an irritatingly disapproving frown.

“Will you stay out of it?” Weasel snapped.

“Ron was just challenging us to a Wizard’s Duel, weren’t you?” Harry cut in. 

The Mudblood raised her bushy brows in surprise. “Ron! You can’t! You’re going to get yourself in trouble!” 

“Shut up, Hermione!” He growled at her.

“What a bunch of idiots.” The Mudblood grumbled as she departed.

Draco suppressed his own worries. “Yeah, little weasel thinks he’ll win, too.” He laughed instead.

“I can take you any day, any time.” Weasel growled out.

“Good. Tonight, at midnight then. Wands only— no contact.” Draco smirked, his own plan coming into fruition.

Judging by Harry’s surprised expression he didn’t think too far ahead. Draco rolled his eyes. _So much for being cunning, Potter._

“I’m his second, how about you?” the Irish git demanded.

“Harry will be mine.” Draco stated, sending Harry a confident glance, trying to convey that he had a plan.

He had no intention of dueling and getting kicked out of school. He would not shame his father that way. “We’ll meet you in the trophy room; that’s always unlocked.”

He turned to Harry, “Come on, Harry. I can’t stand the stench of losers anymore.” 

“Me either.” Harry’s scrunched his nose up in disgust.

They trotted off toward the castle to the Slytherin common room. They still had a little more than an hour before tryouts.

Once out of earshot, Harry spoke. “I didn’t expect him to actually accept.” He admitted. “Is it such a good idea?” He sounded nervous.

Draco snorted, “How thick are you, Harry? I _do_ have a plan. Those losers will never see it coming.” 

Harry had a mischievous glint in his eye. “What is it, then?”

“We tell Filch we overheard some students say they were going to the trophy room at midnight to plan a mast prank on Mrs. Norris. That will get that pathetic Squib’s attention. Let’s see them get out of that one!” 

Harry sent him a look of admiration. “Now that’s brilliant.” He stated as they arrived at the portrait hole. 

“Salazar.” Draco said before stepping into the common room of Slytherin. It was a round room with an elegant, silver velvet couch with dark green pillows on either side. Green, velvet armchairs curved around the central piece of furniture. They were all angled toward the large, dark brick fireplace that roared with constant fire. It did get rather chilly down in the dungeons.

Crabbe and Goyle glanced up from the couch, their stupid brows furrowed in confusion.

“Where were you?” Goyle asked. 

“Quidditch?” Crabbe tried.

“Try-outs aren’t for another hour.” Harry answered with patience Draco did not have.

“Well. Come sit with us. Chat.” Pansy Parkinson purred.

Draco smirked as he sat down beside her. He was eager to brag about their encounter with Weasel and his loser friends. There was mischief glittering in Pansy’s hazel eyes.

She had olive skin and silky, chin-length, raven colored hair. She had a strong jaw, which made her face look handsome, for a girl. He heard some loser Gryffindor girls say that Pansy’s face reminded them of a pug. _Stupid delusional Gryffindor poodles._ He had thought.

“Blaise! Theo! Darlings! Draco has a tale to tell! He’s practically bursting at the seams!” Pansy giggled, pulling Draco out of his thoughts.

“Unlike the rest of you; we are trying to study.” Theo drawled out.

Draco scuffed as he watched them hover over their books and discuss homework. Blaise didn’t bother to look up from the textbooks. Blaise was tall, with high cheekbones, dark skin, and russet, almond shaped eyes. His black hair was cropped short to his head. He was slender but not weedy like Theo.

“Salazar, you are both _so_ boring.” Pansy rolled her eyes. “Anyway, spill, Draco!”

Draco went into detail about the run in with the Weasel, speaking animatedly with his hands as he imitated them with only slight exaggeration. 

They were all snickering and carrying on about it by the end of the story. Draco couldn’t help but feel like he truly belonged somewhere. Of course, he’d never be lame and admit such a thing. 

“So immature.” He heard Blaise comment.

“Excuse you?” Draco turned to him with a scowl.

“Bragging. All you did was set up a scene. Come back when you’ve actually done something instead of attention seeking like a peacock on display.” Blaise nonchalantly replied.

“You’re just jealous you didn’t come up with it first.” He snapped. _How dare he insult a Malfoy this way!_ “You should be careful, some of us have important connections.” He added with a smug smile. 

The room went quiet as loyalties were made. 

“Some of us don’t care about your name or status, _Malfoy._ ” Theo interjected.

Blaise turned his nose up slightly, “High status indeed.”

Draco was about to say something more but Harry nudged him. 

“Quidditch try-outs." He said to him. "Of course, we were personally invited even though we are first years, in case you forgot.” Harry bragged.

Draco threw Blaise and Theo a smug look and then turned to those who actually mattered. “We’ll tell you all about it after we make the team.”

They left for the Quidditch field. Draco kept a stoic expression, despite his nerves making his stomach churn in discomfort. He had to make the team so that he could prove just how much better he was than Theo and Blaise. Harry looked how he felt. He was clearly not well versed in wearing a mask.

Once they arrived on the Quidditch field; they quickly realized that they were the only first years there. They exchanged a quick nervous glance as they headed toward Marcus Flint, the Captain. He standing on the sidelines, appearing quite menacing. 

He sneered at the two of them as they approached. He was tall, muscular, had dark coarse hair, shifty grey eyes, and large buck teeth that gave the Gryffindor Mudblood a run for her money. 

“Well. Madam Hooch told me about you two. Bold move, attacking the boy who lived, innit?” He had a rough voice, like he shouted a lot. 

“Yep, that’s us. I’m Draco, Draco Malfoy.” He announced proudly. After all, his name _was_ connected to plenty of Pure-blood prestige. 

“I’m Harry Potter.” He wielded a cocky smirk.

“Marcus Flint, but you ought to know that already.” He gestured toward the field. “Since you're first years and haven’t any brooms some will be provided. If you survive practice you will probably get one of your own.” He sent them a menacing look.

Draco had a feeling that the older players were not going to go easy on them. Inwardly, he gulped.

“I’m trying out for seeker.” Harry cut through, with a fearless gaze that Draco envied.

“Good for you. Now go get the gear.” He growled at Harry. “You too blondie.”

Something in his voice encouraged the duo to hurry as they headed toward the middle of the field. They picked up one of the crappy brooms and returned to the sidelines with the rest of the Quidditch team hopefuls.

The first thing Draco noticed was how huge they all were in comparison to him and Harry. Outwardly he acted like he belonged there, but secretly he couldn’t help but question his sanity for trying out. Harry seemed nonplussed. Draco wondered if he was cleverer than he appeared.

“OK, you lot.” Barked Marcus. “Get into groups. Seekers, there. Keepers, there. Beaters, there. Keepers, there.” He pointed at various points on the field. “Hurry up, now!” 

Draco scrambled to join the rest of the Chasers that were trying out for the team. Other than some scowls; they pretended that he did not exist. For once, he didn’t mind. He vaguely listened to the instructions that were barked at the other groups. He perked up only when his group was addressed.

“Oi, alright you lot. Get into pairs. I’ll have you pass the Quaffle about a bit, and then have you both try to score goals against the Keeper.” There was a sinister look in his eye that Draco didn’t fancy.

Everyone scrambled to pair up, most notably not with him. He scowled a bit. Imagine, a Malfoy being treated this way! A sharp-faced girl with mousy brown hair pounded her broom into the ground at the prospect of being stuck with him. He suppressed a sneer. She could easily sabotage his ability to get on the team. He glanced toward where Harry’s group would have gathered but he wasn’t there. His eyes moved upward. He was zooming around, already competing against someone to catch the snitch. 

“Oi!” Draco turned his head quickly to face her. The girl’s light blue gaze bore into his. “He said we’re first. Pay attention, first year.” She sneered.

She grabbed a Quaffle in a huff, jumped on her broom and glided up gracefully into the sky. He slid onto his own and followed after her. Draco could feel all of the insecurities and self-doubt melt away as he flew higher into the air. He had practiced since he was fairly young so he was rather confident in his abilities.

“Pass the ball as you move down the field!” Marcus barked at them.

He moved into position. Pointy-faced girl passed the ball to him rather roughly but he was able to easily catch it. As they flew down the field, he was able to keep up with the older player.

They moved in a steady rhythm, each of them able to anticipate each other’s movement by the time they neared the Keeper goal.

Marcus shouted, “Alright, then. So, you both can throw and catch. Good on you.”

Draco missed narrowly missed catching the Quaffle as they abruptly stopped at the sound of his voice.

Marcus opened his arms wide, expecting the ball to be thrown to him. Pointy-faced girl quickly obliged.

“Now I want you to move down to the other side of the field while zigzagging across the field without bumping into each other like a couple of Bludgers.” He instructed.

Draco didn’t expect this exercise. _What about trying to score against the Keeper?_ This exercise seemed like an impossible feat. Without further warning Marcus yelled out, “Go!” 

They both quickly sprung into action, zooming forward like they were racing. They slowed slightly once they attempted to cross each other without collision. They found themselves slowing down quite a bit in order to concentrate on each other's movements. The first few times crossing they narrowly escaped crashing. After some trial and error, they became in sync. 

They were near the other end of the field when out of nowhere a Bludger hit Draco hard in the stomach. He had been concentrating so hard on his flying that he hadn’t seen it coming. He tipped off balance enough to cause his broom to take a nosedive toward the ground. He inwardly panicked, his eyes bugging out of his head in a way he’d find comical if it was happening to someone else. He screamed loudly as he neared impact.

At the last moment, he was able to pull up slightly, barely keeping him from directly hitting the ground. Draco was flung toward the benches instead, hitting them with a loud thud. He winced at the sound of his broom snapping in half. Once everything stilled his ears focused on the laughter around him. 

“First years…bloody moron.” They cackled.

Marco’s ugly face appeared above him. “Oi, first year are you alive?” He sneered.

Draco groaned in reply.

“You’ll live. I expect your fancy father to pay for the broom you broke. Now get off my field!” Marco barked at him.

Draco balked angrily as he forced himself to his feet, his entire body aching. _At least nothing appears to be broken._ He thought miserably.

“You should be more respectful to me." Draco spat at the team captain. "I _will_ be sure to tell my father of this and you better hope he doesn’t get you expelled for trying to kill me like that.” He spat at the team captain, with every bit of courage he had in him. _No one makes a fool out of a Malfoy!_

Marco simply laughed. “I’d like to see you try, First Year. You haven’t any power here.” He shook his head and walked away.

Draco smoothed out his robes, shaking with adrenaline, fear and fury. He had every intention of telling his father. He deserved to be on the team. It wasn’t _his_ fault they sabotaged him. 

He fumed as he headed back to the dormitory, blatantly ignoring anyone who spoke to him. Especially Harry, who repeatedly asked him if he was alright. _Why wont he sod off?_

Once he made it to his bed, he plopped down on top of his emerald comforter and rolled over onto his stomach. He buried his head into his white silky pillow. No one's bedding was as extravagant as his. Not even Blaise's, which paled in comparison. It was only when he was alone that he allowed silent tears of humiliation to roll down his cheeks.


	8. The midnight duel.

Draco groaned as he was shaken awake. 

“Bugger off.” He murmured irritably. 

“You missed dinner.” Harry informed him. 

“I don’t care.” He grunted. “What do you want?” 

“We have to go talk to Mr. Filch, remember?” Harry pressed.

Draco gritted his teeth in irritation as he pushed the covers off of himself. If it wasn’t for their mission; he’d opt to stay in his bed forever. No doubt Marcus told everyone about his blunder on the Quidditch field. Despite his threats, he had no intention of telling his father. He’d only speak of the shame and disappointment caused by him.

Draco sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before opening them. He gasped in surprise as he took note of Harry creepily hovering over him.

“Do you mind giving me some space?” He snapped.

Harry frowned at him as he took a few steps back. “Look Draco I know it was—”

“I don’t care to talk about it. Quidditch is stupid anyway.” He interrupted with a glare fierce enough to convince Harry not to push it.

Draco rolled out of bed and stood to his feet. “Let’s go.” 

They were greeted by laughter as Marcus retold the story to the entire common room. His face burned with embarrassment. 

“Bragging about how you sabotaged a great player’s try out is _so cunning_. To think you were _that_ threatened by his abilities.” Harry dryly stated.

Draco gaped at his friend in surprise. He hadn’t expected him to say something. The room went still, with rising tension. 

“Careful, Potter. Wouldn’t want to do anything to kick you off the team.” Marcus threatened.

“Think you need me too much for that.” Harry retorted.

Marcus rose from the chair then, his hands curled into large fists, his eyes lit aflame with untamed fury. He's _mad! Harry is going to get himself killed!_

“Harry...leave it.” Draco whispered quietly, though he was secretly grateful that Harry had his back.

“Can we not? Leave the taunting to the Gryffindors and Mudbloods.” Pansy cut in, though her eyes were slightly wider than normal, even if her expression remained calm. “What is the point if we fight against our own?” 

Before Marcus had the chance to continue, Pansy continued talking loudly to a girl with long, cascading blond hair, ocean blue eyes, and a rather soft looking face.

“Now. Daphne. You were talking about the break-in at Gringotts!” Pansy continued as though nothing had occurred. 

Daphne nodded slightly; her ocean blue eyes focused on Pansy. She was wisely pretending that none of the hostilities were happening. She had a rather soft looking face and slender build.

“Yes. Gringotts was broken into on July 31st. They suspect a Dark wizard or witch is the culprit. Yet nothing was taken.” Daphne spoke in a conspiratorial tone that would normally annoy him but Marcus seemed equally interest in the recent break in so it appeared that he had already lost interest in Draco. The story was rather intriguing.

“Come on.” Harry whispered to him, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

The two of them slipped out and headed down the corridor. Once Draco had the time to gather his thoughts, he realized that Harry had made the Quidditch team. _He made it and I didn’t._ He felt a pang of resentment toward Harry. It wasn’t fair. _He_ was supposed to make it. He scowled, remaining silent as they searched for Filch and Mrs. Norris. Out of the corner of his eye he took note of Harry glancing in his direction like he wanted to say something. Luckily, he never did. He didn’t want to talk to Harry about it and he certainly didn’t want his pity. 

“Almost time for curfew. You don’t want to be caught out of bed and end up in the dungeons.” Fitch drawled out from behind. His voice was as nasal and oily as his dirty, stringy hair.

When they turned around, he was standing there with his beady little eyes and demented looking cat, both quite disheveled.

 _Doesn’t he ever bathe his cat, or himself for that matter?_ Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. 

Harry seemed to hesitate at the mention of a dungeon. Draco rolled his eyes. _Who cares?_

“It’s not us you need to worry about. We overheard some students talk about meeting in the trophy room at midnight to discuss a prank they want to play on Mrs. Norris.” Draco informed him, dripping as much indignant sympathy in his voice as possible for the horrible beast.

“Mrs. Norris?” Filch squeaked. _That_ got his attention.

“Yes. It’s a horrible affair. We knew we had to find you and tell you.” Draco lathered it on thick.

“Good. Now go to bed. Don’t want to be caught out of bed.” Filch warned as he headed away from them as he spoke.

“So ungrateful for our services.” Draco spoke quiet enough to not be overheard.

Harry glanced at him, “What if they get expelled?” He apparently hadn’t thought of that before. _Salazar, he’s naive._

“Who cares?” Draco shrugged it off.

“Well, it would be our fault. I mean, as funny as it sounds to watch them run from Filch, I don’t want to get them kicked out of school.” His expression was contemplative.

“Please. Getting Weasel and Finnigan expelled would be an upgrade for the school. Remember what he said to you.” Draco reminded him, although he didn’t understand why it had upset him so much.

A flash of anger crossed his features. “Yeah. Serves them right.” Harry spat out in a flash of anger.

“Let’s follow and watch.” Draco piped up after a few moments. _What was the point if they couldn’t see their stupid faces when Filch caught them?_

Harry dragged himself out of whatever infuriated trance he trapped himself in.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I mean, _we_ don’t want to get caught, do we?” Harry furrowed his brows.

“Scared, Potter?” Draco smirked at him with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“You wish.” Harry challenged with a sly grin.

There was a short pause before the two of them started laughing. 

“We’ll head out at 11:30 P.M., then.” Draco confirmed, after calming down.

Harry shook his head, as though he couldn’t believe he was getting sucked into this madness. Draco couldn’t help but smirk. _He’ll learn, sooner or later._

They headed back to their dormitory so that they could get some studying done before their adventure. Around ten, they pretended they were going to sleep. Draco stared at the ceiling, his mind wandering aimlessly.

 _How did Harry make the team when I could not? Why did they leave him alone but not me? I’m the one from the distinguished family. His died. I wonder how they died. No one knows the Potter name. Where did Harry grow up?_ He groaned. _What do I care? Was this the sort of thing friends find out about each other?_

Draco hadn't a clue. He hadn’t a single real friend growing up. He spent his childhood in the Malfoy Manor, learning how to be a proper Heir and playing by himself between traveling and watching his father suck up to others in the Pureblood elite. He could have sworn he overheard them speak about who they would set him up with to marry once he hit 18. _Disturbing._ He had thought to himself. Harry was his first real friend.

He liked some of the others well enough but he wasn’t quite sure about their alliances just yet. He certainly didn’t consider them trustworthy. _Perhaps Pansy._ He conceded. She did have the sense to distract Marcus when he was humiliating him in the Slytherin common room.

His mind continued to wander as the time crept by slowly.

At 11:30 P.M., he quietly got out of bed. He stepped over to Harry’s bed, hovering over him as he shook him gently. He jumped, just as Draco anticipated, so he quickly put his hand over his mouth to prevent him from making too much noise. _Harry is far from stealthy._ He had thought with bemused annoyance. Once Harry got his wits about him, he pulled his hand away and stepped back. Draco let out a derisive snort as Harry rolled out of bed in a horribly undignified manner.

They quietly made their way through the common room out into the hallway. Draco glanced about, unable to help but note that everything looked different in the middle of the night. As they made their way down the corridors; he pretended he knew the way but in reality, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure of where he was going.

Finally, they found the staircase to the third floor and flitted up them. The castle remained still in the dead of the night. They were almost to the trophy room when they heard quick footsteps coming right for them. Somewhere further down the corridor they heard the croak of Fitch as he chased the approaching feet.

They hurried down the hallway without any sense of direction. Finally, they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway. They hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom. Draco and Harry ran inside of it and breathlessly waited. Draco hoped that they weren’t following them. The more people per hiding spot, the more likely they were to get caught.

"I think we've lost him," The first voice rasped, clearly out of breath. It sounded like Weasel. 

"I--told--you," Draco quickly determined that it was Longbottom's voice. "I--told---you." He panted out.

It took quite a bit of effort to keep himself from snickering. 

"We've got to get back to the Gryffindor tower," The other Gryffindor, Finnigan cut in. "quickly as possible."

"Malfoy tricked you," Longbottom informed them. "You realize that, right? He was never going to meet you. Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

Draco and Harry exchanged smug glances as they heard the footsteps start to move away from them. The danger seemed to be waning.

Then, as quick as an opening door and a squeal of delight; their hope was squashed.

"Shut up, Peeves -- please -- you'll get us thrown out." Longbottom spoke from a distance.

Peeves cackled.

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please." Longbottom pleaded.

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice. "It's for your own good, you know."

"Get out of the way," snapped Weasel.

He winced as Peeves bellowed. "STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR"

Draco rolled his eyes. That did it. _Stupid Weasel._

“Should we wait here?” Harry whispered to him. 

Peeves heard him as he strode into the Charms classroom.

“IN THE CLASSROOM TOO! IN THE CLASSROOM!” 

If looks could kill, the one Draco was giving Harry would have struck him dead. Harry sent an apologetic glance in return. Draco rolled his eyes and gestured toward the door. They simultaneously jumped to their feet and headed for the door. They managed to dodge Peeves and shot down the hall. They had no idea if they were running toward or away from the other group until they spotted them at a door.

“Open it already, Weasel!” Draco growled as they slowed to a stop.

Weasel pulled it a few times to no avail.

"This is it!" Weasel moaned, as he pushed helplessly at the door.

"We're done for! This is the end!" Finnigan whined.

They could hear footsteps behind them as Filch ran as fast as he could toward Peeves's shouts.

“Move over!” Longbottom cut through the noise. He approached the lock and waved his wand at the lock. “ _Alohomora_!” 

Draco was shocked to hear the door click and unlock. They piled in and shut the door behind them. They let out a collective sigh of relief. 

“You bloody pillocks! This is all your fault!” Weasel growled at Draco and Harry.

“You’re the one stupid enough to take the bait.” Draco smugly stated.

“Oh yeah, and how did that turn out for ya? Last I checked you were in the same situation as we are!” Weasel droned on.

“Uh...g-guys?” Longbottom stammered.

Draco’s head snapped to him. “Are you going to cry now, the boy with endless tears?” He sneered.

He expected Weasel to add some idiotic remark but his head was turned forward. He stammered intelligible rubbish; a few octaves higher than his normal voice.

“What is your---” Draco froze mid-sentence as he heard a growl. He turned his head, realizing now what they were looking at.

They weren't in a room, like they had thought. They were in the forbidden corridor on the third floor. It became quite obvious as to why it was forbidden. The warning from Dumbledore about suffering a horrible death seemed far more terrifyingly plausible now. 

They were staring straight into the eyes of a monstrous three headed dog that filled the entire space between the ceiling and the door. The three heads had matching sets of fuming nostrils, rolling, mad eyes, and mouths filled with saliva that hung in slippery ropes from its yellowish fangs. All six eyes stared at them with a menacing glare. Draco realized that the only reason why they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise. The monster quickly recovered; there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

Draco found himself paralyzed in fear. _This is it. This is how I die._ His face went sheet white at the thought. Then, unexpectedly, they fell backward onto the ground. Bewildered, he vaguely recalled Longbottom slamming the door shut. They stumbled to their feet and flew back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn't see him anywhere. It didn’t matter now. All they cared about was putting as much space between them and the monster as possible.

Harry and Draco split off from the rest as they hurried down the corridors back down to the Slytherin dormitory. “Salazar!” Draco shouted, thankful to be granted entrance. Panting and out of breath, Draco and Harry stared at each other in awe. They couldn’t believe they made it back alive. 

“What _was_ that?” Harry got out finally.

“No idea. I don’t want to know. Why would they have something so dangerous in a bloody school? Does the Ministry know?” Draco's eyes widened in terror at the notion that they were in the dark about something so terrible. _Maybe I should tell my father._

“They must. Considering it was clearly guarding something.” Harry said after a moment.

Draco scrunched his nose, puzzled, “What do you mean, guarding something?” 

“There was a trap door under its feet.” Harry’s face paled as he spoke.

“What? Are you serious?”

Harry gave a definitive nod in reply.

“What in Salazar’s name would that... _thing_ be guarding?” Draco shuddered, horrified by the notion.

“Who knows…” Harry trailed off. The two boys went silent as the words hung in the air.

They exchanged frightened glances and then quietly headed to bed. Neither of them wanted to venture the question too far. Exhausted from the stressful day, and the disastrously terrifying night; Draco quickly fell asleep. He dreamed about three headed dogs chasing him down the Quidditch field while throwing Bludgers at his head.


	9. The Halloween mayhem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The character Liam Moon is a take on J.K. Rowling's character, "Moon" who is merely mentioned during the Sorting Hat. According to cannon websites, Moon was one of the original 40 as "Lily Moon". She was an early draft of the character Luna. I added, and changed the gender since only the last name was ambiguously mentioned in the book. I wanted to even out the boys dorm of the Gryffindor house a bit since I changed it all up.
> 
> I do not own J.K. Rowling's characters or the masterpiece series she created.

The morning after the Forbidden Corridor incident, Ron, Neville, and Seamus sat in the Great Hall eating breakfast. Neville couldn’t help but glance over to see if Harry and Malfoy also made it back to their dormitory without further incident. When he spotted them, he wasn’t sure if he was glad or disappointed. They were the ones who set his friends up. According to Ron; Harry was the one who suggested a Wizard’s Duel to start with.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Harry had bullied him since he could remember. Perhaps it was foolish to still believe that Harry could change. Malfoy, after all, was like a poisonous plant that infected anyone he touched. He shook his head slightly and turned back to his porridge.

“It’s too bad that Potter and Malfoy didn’t get caught. They deserve to get expelled, if you ask me.” Ron was saying.

“Aye. Made us out to be eejits, they did.” Seamus chimed in.

“We’ve got to get them back.” Ron pressed.

“Now you’re suckin’ diesel!” Seamus exclaimed excitedly.

“It isn't worth it.” Hermione started from across the table.

“Excuse you we’re having a _private_ conversation.” Ron irritably interjected.

“I think she’s right.” Neville spoke up finally. “It isn’t worth lowering ourselves to their level.”

Hermione sent Ron a smug look and he scowled back at her. 

“We can’t just let them get away with it!” Ron exclaimed.

“Aye. They’ll just continue to make fun of us.” Seamus agreed.

“What do you suggest, we tell one of the professors?” Neville challenged with a perked brow.

The other two boys sulked in silence.

Neville glanced over at Harry a moment who seemed nonplussed. Him and Malfoy were both laughing carelessly.

“What do they think they’re doing keeping a thing like that in the Forbidden Corridor?" Ron was saying when Neville glanced back toward his friends.

“Who cares? I’ll be staying as far away from it as possible.” Seamus said with a shake of his head.

Amidst the chattering between the other two boys; Neville hadn’t the chance to think clearly about the situation. He imagined the horrible creature in his mind’s eye. In that moment, one thing became abundantly clear.

“It was guarding something.” Neville bit down on his lip nervously.

“What?” Seamus and Ron spoke simultaneously.

“There was a trap door, under its feet.” He continued.

“What could it possibly be guarding in a school?” Ron exclaimed.

Neville shrugged his shoulders. “I wouldn’t like to find out.” He confessed.

“Guarding something...blimey!” Ron had that glimmer of mischief in his eye again. 

Neville tuned out Ron and Seamus as they discussed what could be hidden. He didn’t care what it was guarding as long as it stayed safely locked away from them.

The Owls arrived just as they were finishing up breakfast. Neville carefully opened the letter.

_Dearest Neville,_

_Hullo! How are you? Everything is fine here. Did you get sorted into Gryffindor like we had discussed?_

_You better have! I hope that you are staying out of trouble!_

_Last thing we need is the Daily Prophet reporting about The Boy Who Lived going rogue!_

_Is that Harry Potter still giving you trouble? Do write back and let me know you are doing alright! I love you!_

_Love,_

_Gran_

Neville glanced over at Ron and Seamus. He wondered if he would land himself in hot water continued hanging around with the likes of them. 

He heard heavy feet rushing past him and he turned around. Harry was carrying a large package. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle trailing behind him. Malfoy’s expression was a mix of jealousy and intrigue. 

Neville rolled his eyes at the display and turned around. They had already caught the attention of Ron and Seamus.

“Wonder what has got them so excited.” Ron bitterly stated. 

“Let’s find out then.” Seamus chimed in.

“Would you leave it alone already? You’ve already nearly gotten us in trouble.” Neville frowned. 

“You’re the one that followed us!” Ron spat.

“To warn you! I had a feeling it was a trap. I know Harry and that’s the sort of thing he tried to pull on me my whole life!” He ranted, his hands balling into angry fists.

“Shove off then and don’t follow us.” 

With that Ron got up from the table and trailed the Slytherin boys. Seamus sent Neville a dubious look and followed after him. Neville glanced toward Hermione, who rolled her eyes. He had to smile. At least one of them was sensible. 

Nonetheless, he found himself rising to his feet and followed after the other two boys. 

When the group of Slytherins reached the half-way point of the entrance hall, they stopped abruptly turned to them

“We know you lot have been following us.” Malfoy sneered. “Want to look at what he got, do you?”

“Shut it, Malfoy.” Ron snapped.

Harry narrowed his eyes at them a moment before proceeding to open it, revealing a brand-new broom.

“That’s a Nimbus Two Thousand!” Ron exclaimed in awe. “But first years aren’t even allowed a broom!”

“Well, since I’m a Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team they made an exception.” Harry bragged with a cocky smile.

They gaped at him. “You what?” Ron exclaimed.

“He’s lying.” Seamus hissed. 

“No I’m not!” Harry heatedly replied.

"You’re the Slytherin Seeker?” Neville piped up, finally.

“That’s right.” Harry proudly confirmed.

Ron shook his head, incredulously, “That would make you the youngest Seeker—”

“In a century.” Harry finished the sentence for him. 

Crabbe and Goyle snickered while Malfoy looked like he just ate something foul.

“Who sent you that?” Neville asked, careful not to mention them by name. 

“Mind your business, Neville. Not like I’d let you anywhere near it. You’d break it just by looking at it too hard.” Malfoy snickered.

“Oh, shut it, Malfoy! What kind did you say you’ve got at home, Comet Two Sixty?” Ron flashed a reassuring smile to Neville before eyeing Malfoy again. “Comets look flashy but they’re not in the same league as the Nimbus.”

“What would you know about it, Weasel, you couldn’t afford half the handle, Malfoy snapped back. “I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig.”

Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy’s elbow. 

“Not arguing, I hope, boys?” He squeaked. 

“Potter’s been sent a broomstick, Professor.” said Ron quickly. 

“Yes, yes that’s right,” said Professor Flitwick, eyeing Harry with trepidation. “I was told that Dumbledore allowed it given the special circumstances.” 

Neville couldn’t tell whether the Professor was happy about it or not. 

"Well, let’s not loiter too long.” Professor Flitwick said finally and then continued down the hallway. 

Neville pulled on Ron’s sleeve to get his attention and started to pull him toward their dormitory. Seamus was already heading off with a shake of his head. Harry and Malfoy sent them a smug look as Crabbe and Goyle let out grunts of laughter. 

For a moment it looked like Ron was going to pull his wand out before he finally relented as they turned and walked away. 

Once they returned to their dormitory, Neville finally sent an owl back to Gran.

_Dear Gran,_

_Glad you are doing OK! I was sorted into Gryffindor_

_like you said don’t worry. I am doing well! I love Hogwarts. I’m learning loads of things!_

_I am not getting in any trouble I promise! Harry was sorted into Slytherin so I don’t see him often._

_All is well! I love you too!_

_Love,_

_Neville_

He gave the parchment to his owl, Trevor, and sent him off.

With the abundance of homework and the extra time spent studying Herbology, Neville almost didn’t realize that two months had passed since he first came to Hogwarts. As much as he missed Gran; it was nice to have friends. Luckily, they hadn’t dragged him into any more trouble since the incident with the terrifying monster.

On Halloween morning, they awoke to the smell of baking Pumpkin as it came wafting through the corridors. In Charms class, Professor Flitwick announced that they were ready to learn how to make objects fly.

Ron and Seamus paired off together. He suspected that they were trying to avoid Hermione. He didn’t understand why; he found her to be quite interesting. He liked the other two but they went on about Quidditch all the time and didn’t have the patience to listen to him when he spoke animatedly about Herbology. 

On the other side of him and Hermione sat Dean Thomas and Liam Moon, whom they also shared their dormitory with. They were having a heated discussion about which was better, Quidditch or soccer. It was the most he had ever heard Liam speak since he’d met him.

Even then, Liam rarely spoke to anyone outside of Dean. He was a bit taller than Seamus, who was considerably shorter than the rest of the first years. He had shoulder-length, dirty blond hair, an intense cyan gaze, and a long, thin face.

“Now, don’t forget that nice wrist movement we’ve been practicing!” Squeaked Professor Flitwick, who was perched on top of his pile of books as usual. “Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important too—never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said ‘s’ instead of ‘f’ and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest.”

It was quite difficult. Neville swished and flicked, but the feather laid still on the desktop. Hermione was going to take a turn but quickly became distracted by Seamus. He had become so impatient that he prodded the feather with his wand and set it on fire. Ron had to put it out with his hat. 

Professor Flitwick quickly provided them a new wand. Ron eagerly started to wave his wand at the new feather, but quickly became frustrated. 

“ _Wingardium Leviosa!”_ He shouted as he waved his long arms like a windmill.

Neville tried to lift his feather no avail while Hermione silently watched Ron’s attempts. 

“You’re saying it wrong,” Hermione snapped finally. “It’s Wing- _gar_ -dium Levi- _o-sa,_ make the ‘gar’ nice and long.”

Turning toward them, Neville took note of the way Ron’s ears reddened.

“You do it then, if you’re so clever.” Ron snarled.

Hermione eyed their own feather and rolled up the sleeves of her gown.

She flicked her wand and said, “ _Wingardium Leviosa!”_

To Neville’s amazement, their feather rose upwards and hovered about four feet above their heads. 

“Oh, well done!” Cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. “Everyone see here, Miss Granger’s done it! 15 points for Gryffindor!”

Neville grinned at her with a wide smile, “Great job, Hermione!” He exclaimed. He leaned over, adding in a whisper, “Can you help me do that too?”

She beamed proudly at her accomplishment. Neville’s request caused her cheeks to turn a bit pink.

“Of course, Neville.” She discreetly replied.

She spent the rest of the class helping him with the spell. By the end of class, his feather rose a whole foot, earning him ten points to Gryffindor.

He couldn’t help but notice the dark looks that Ron sent in Hermione’s direction. If she noticed, she was ignoring it. Neville quickly followed suit. They were in the same house; it shouldn't have been a completion.

Seamus didn’t seem to know who to be more annoyed by, Ron or Hermione.

“Thanks for the help.” Neville as they headed out of the classroom. She opened her mouth to respond when Ron’s voice boomed loudly beside them.

“It’s no wonder no one could stand her!” He ranted to Seamus as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, “She’s a nightmare, honestly.” 

Neville was about to quickly interject but Hermione flew past him with tears in her eyes.

“I think she heard you.” Seamus voice chimed in a few paces in front of Neville.

“So?” Said Ron. “She must’ve noticed she’s got no friends.”

Neville quickest his pace, careful not to trip over his feet as he approached Ron and Seamus, daggers in his eyes.

“In case you haven’t noticed _I’m_ her friend.” He snapped.

Ron and Seamus stared at him, aghast, taken aback not just his sharp tone but the quick manner he stuck up for Hermione. Before they could respond, Neville stalked off, only tripping over his feet once.

Neville’s anger turned into concern when Hermione didn’t show up for any of her classes. He looked around but he couldn’t seem to find her all afternoon. He took care to avoid Ron for the rest of the afternoon.

He headed down to the Great Hall, his stomach knotted with worry. He was momentarily distracted by the intricate decorations. Multitudes of live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling and swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. He sat next to Liam and Dean instead of Ron and Seamus as the feast appeared on golden plates.

Neville stopped cutting his ham when a conversation two girls were loudly engaged in caught his attention.

“Yes. She refused to say why she was upset.” He recognized the girl as Padma Patil. Her dark brown eyes were so focused she didn’t seem to realize Neville was listening. She curled a strand of her jet-black hair behind her ear as she spoke.

“Oh, didn’t you hear what that ginger boy said about her not having any friends?” A girl he recalled as Lavender, responded. 

“Excuse me but do you mean Hermione Granger?” Neville cut in finally.

They both stared at him, startled. Lavender’s hazel eyes widened, and her mouth gaped open like a fish. 

“God. He’s talking to us.” Lavender uttered, her dark brown skin blushed lightly.

“I know…” Padma giggled; her golden skin became flushed. “Uh---yeah Hermione.” She said flippantly. “In the girl’s toilet like moaning myrtle. But after what that ginger boy said who could blame her?” She was clearly bursting to share gossip regardless of who was on the other end.

Neville turned beat red. He had no idea what to make of the two fawning over him. “Th-thanks.” He stammered out as he lowered his eyes back to his ham, hoping they didn’t notice. 

The girls giggled in response and then whispered among themselves, Hermione decidedly forgotten. Neville was about to ask them something else when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror written all over his face. 

Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll in the dungeons!” He shrilly screeched. “Thought you ought to know." He sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Percy was in his element. "Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!”

“How did trolls get in?” Dean questioned behind him.

“They’re rather stupid. Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke.” Ron answered.

Neville got up from the table and started to follow Percy as instructed. He stopped abruptly when he realized that Hermione was still in the girl’s toilet and didn’t know about the troll. He glanced about for one of the professors but it was utter chaos. He made a grab for Seamus as he was passing by.

“Oi! What are you doing?” He hissed angrily.

“Hermione is in the toilets!” Neville blurted out.

Seamus just stared at him blankly.

Neville let out an exasperated sigh. “She is in the toilets, alone. She doesn’t know about the troll!” He waved his arms wildly as he spoke. “Help me find one of the professors!”

“Oi, look!” Seamus replied as he pointed toward Harry.

“What’s he doing?” Neville wondered out loud.

“Maybe he saw the troll already!” Seamus gulped, appearing quite peaked.

“Then we haven’t got time. Come on!” Neville shouted. 

They took off after Harry as he climbed the stairs toward the third-floor corridor. 

_Could the troll have made it this far up?_ Neville wondered if they were following the wrong lead.

Neville held up his hand, stopping Seamus in his tracks.

“Do you smell something?”

A foul stench reached both of their nostrils. It was a mixture of old socks and an abandoned sewer.

They heard a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Harry ran toward them, nearly knocking right into Neville as he abruptly came to a stop, eyes bugging out of his head.

“What are you two doing? Are you following Snape too?” He asked incredulously.

“What? No! Hermione is in the girl’s toilet.” Neville fidgeted where he stood.

Harry opened his mouth to say something but then shut it quickly. He pointed at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight. 

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long. 

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

“We could lock it in.” Harry suggested.

Neville shook his head, “We don’t know where Hermione is. What if we lock her in with it?” 

“Good point.” Harry conceded as he chewed on his lips anxiously.

“If we hurry, we could find a teacher!” Seamus exclaimed.

“She’ll be dead by the time we find one!” Neville countered.

The troll had heard them by then. It let out a loud growl and started toward them. It was quicker than they would have thought. 

“What now?” Seamus shouted.

“Distract him!” Neville instructed.

Harry gave a curt nod and darted to the right, as close to the opposing wall as possible as he passed the troll. The troll glanced between the one fleeing boy and the other two left in confusion. It trudged forward toward Neville and Seamus and they took a step back. 

“I thought you had a plan…” Seamus quietly whispered.

“I--I--I d-do. Harry hasn’t distracted him. I..I have to--” Neville stammered.

“Run!” Seamus interrupted and started to follow Harry. 

All Neville could do was follow after him. Neville brushed the wall as he made his way past the troll before it could lift its arm that wielded the club. It was big yet slow so they used that to their advantage.

Harry stared at them, bewildered as they passed him after he had stopped. He clearly had anticipated distracting it. Seamus turned left toward the girl’s bathroom. In the distance Neville and Harry heard a loud yelp and a crash. 

They approached the noise, stopping abruptly when they saw that Hermione and Seamus had collided at the entrance of the girl’s toilet.

She blinked at them, rubbing her head as Seamus groaned in pain, momentarily disoriented. Hermione managed to get to her feet first and offered Seamus a hand up. He took it and stood beside her. 

“What are you doing here? You are aware this is the girl’s toilet, right?” She lectured, her eyes flitting between Seamus and Neville before her narrowed gaze landed on Harry. “What is _he_ doing here?” She added, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Shut up, Hermione. There’s a troll.” Harry hissed through his teeth.

Just then they heard a roar nearby. They went completely still, hoping he’d gotten lost. The troll turned the corner, spotting them down the corridor. Hermione paled; her eyes widened into stunned silence. The troll rushed toward them again.

Harry ran across the corridor to the other side and then started to run toward it, careful to keep his distance. Neville had believed he was leaving them until he started running toward it. The troll made a 180 turn in confusion.

“Come get me, ugly!” Harry yelled at it loudly.

Neville’s eyes widened in shock. “What’s he doing?”

“Distracting him, mate.” Seamus said in awe.

Hermione trembled with fear. “We have to stop it before it kills him.” She shakily warned.

Neville knew he had to do something. He took out his wand and waved it at the troll, blurting out the first spell he thought of. “ _Wingardium Leviosa!_ ” He did it just like Hermione and he practiced in class.

The club flew out of the troll’s hand, rose high into the air and then dropped with a sickening crack on top of its owner’s head. The troll swayed, dazed by the sudden blow, and then fell face first onto the ground with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Neville stared at the troll, wand still out, as the four of them gaped at the fallen troll in stunned silence.

“Is it dead?” Hermione broke through the spell of silence.

Harry, who was closest, glanced at it. “No. Just knocked out.” He informed them as he started to back up. 

“W-” Neville began as Harry hit something solid behind him and whirled around, facing the stunned faces of Snape, Quirrell, and Professor McGonagall.

Quirrell took one look at the fallen troll and fainted again.

The four of them gaped at the other two livid professors.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" questioned Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. 

“Put your wand down, Neville before you poke your own eye out.” Snape hissed. 

Neville gulped and lowered it, his face ashen. They were going to get expelled; he just knew it. _Nan’s gonna kill me._ He thought miserably.

"You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?" McGonagall pressed.

A small voice came out of the shadows. “Please, Professor McGonagall -- they were looking for me." Hermione started.

"Miss Granger!" McGonagall was aghast. 

“I went looking for the troll because I -- I thought I could deal with it on my own -- you know, because I've read all about them." She squeaked out. “If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now.”

Neville couldn’t believe his ears; Hermione was taking all of the blame. A part of him wanted to speak up. The larger part of him knew that it would only make it worse for her if it came out that she had lied. Seamus and Neville exchanged knowing glances. He turned toward Harry, trying to read his expression.

Harry gave Hermione a rather scrutinizing look, as though he expected her to shift blame at any moment. When she didn’t, he dropped his shoulders slightly.

“Well? Is this true?” McGonagall pressed.

“Yes.” They said in unison.

"Well -- in that case..." said Professor McGonagall. "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hung her head. Neville felt bad for her but didn’t know what else to do.

“How do you play into this, Potter? Surely, _you_ aren’t concerned for their safety.” Snape drawled. 

Neville’s eyes widened a bit. _Oh no._

“Wanted to play hero as well, did you?” Snape continued, his piercing gaze remaining on Harry.

He couldn’t quite see Harry’s face but his jaw was set stubbornly.

“Aren’t I the hero?” Harry quipped back with a biting smile.

_Was that why he helped? He wanted to be acknowledged? That did sound more like Harry than him willingly helping. Although, he could have left them there yet he didn’t._

“Slytherins may be known for our ambition but we don’t seek it through dangerous situations. Five points from Slytherin.” Snape said in a patronizing tone. “Now go. There should be food left unless Crabbe and Goyle devoured it all already.” Snape waved a hand of dismissal toward Harry.

He did not hesitate to rush off. Neville expected Snape to move off after him but he didn’t. He narrowed his gaze on Neville like a predator surveying its next prey.

Professor McGonagall spoke up. “Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this, "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower."

Hermione left.

McGonagall turned to Neville and Seamus. 

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points.” She stated. “I believe, since Harry also helped, ten points also shall be rewarded to Slytherin.” She eyed him with uncertainty.

Snape looked like he was going to object but McGonagall’s piercing stare seemed to have stopped him.

“Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go.” She dismissed them.

They hurried back to the Gryffindor dormitory in a flurry.

“That was mad!” Seamus was pale and clammy. “A right chancer!”

“We are lucky to be alive.” There was a quiver in Neville’s voice.

“Aye. That we are.” Seamus agreed. “Can you believe Harry Potter was there?”

Neville furrowed his brows, shaking his head. “Odd, Wasn’t it? What was it he asked about us following Snape?”

Seamus shrugged. “No bloody clue. He must have been taking the mickey out of us.” He said dismissively. “Doubt he would have stuck around if he had the chance. A bit of a dosser, that one.”

“Right.” Neville wasn’t so sure about that. 

The thing was that he did have the chance to run but he didn’t. He figured that it was a wasted effort trying to convince Seamus that.

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout," Seamus said and they entered.

The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione lingered by the door, waiting for them. At first none of them said anything.

“Thank you.” Hermione finally stated as she glanced between the two of them.

“If it weren’t for you helping me in Charms---” Neville trailed off. “Thank you.” He smiled at her.

“Yeah...thanks.” Seamus said a bit sheepishly.

She blushed and smiled and then headed back to her Dormitory

Neville watched Hermione as she departed. Before either of the two boys could comment, Ron approached.

“What was that about?” Ron asked.

Neville narrowed his gaze at the red head. “That was us consoling her because of _your_ stupid remarks.” He was not about to mention the troll. He didn’t want people to know about that and have it end up in The Daily Prophet.

He sent Seamus a pointed look, hoping he got the hint to do the same. “You did hurt her, mate.” He cautiously added.

“Well...she should stop being a know-it-all then!” Ron stubbornly retorted, but his ears were red.

“Just because you don’t know anything doesn’t mean you should insult those that do!” Silence rang through the dorm, as Neville, who was normally rather quiet, voice rose above the rest.

Ron gaped at him in shock, his face matched the colour of his hair. “Ye-yeah well…yeah. Shut up!” With that he stomped off to the dormitory they unfortunately shared.

Everyone continued to stare at him. Finally, Seamus who looked as shocked as anyone, yelled out. “Well! Show’s over! Sod off!” 

The roar of chatter filled the room again, much to Neville’s relief.

“Thanks.” Neville said quietly to Seamus.

“Sure thing, mate.” He shrugged slightly. “I don’t know about you but I’m knackered. Night, mate.” He added as he started toward the dormitory.

Neville yawned in response. “Me too.” He let out another yawn as he followed after the other boy. As soon as he hit his bed; he fell fast asleep.

The next day they brought Hermione up to speed about the Three-headed dog guarding something in the Forbidden Corridor.

”I wonder what it could possibly be guarding.” She had remarked.

”It must be important...” Neville trailed off, horrified by what could be so important that they needed something so terrifying to guard it. 

Seamus and Hermione nodded as they fell into silence. They both seemed to be wondering the same thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	10. The suspicious teacher and the Quidditch Seeker.

Somewhere between the unworthy Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor announced there was a troll in a dungeon and the Headmaster instructing all Prefects to take the students to their dormitories, Harry went missing.

“He does realize Slytherin dormitories are in the dungeons, right?” Theo dryly remarked to their prefect, Gemma Farley.

“Right. Best ask Snape—” She cut off mid-sentence as she frantically glanced around, noting that he was also missing.

Draco, already on edge from Harry’s disappearance, was now in a bit of a panic. Not that he let on to such a thing. He was taught early how to hide his emotions. His eyes searched the room, wondering where Snape and Harry had gotten off to.

Farley’s voice cut through Draco’s thoughts. “Ah. Snape went with other professors to fight the troll.”

Draco let out a breath he was unaware he was holding. _That doesn’t explain Harry’s absence._ He thought, his heart quickening once again.

Farley started to lead them off again, not to the dungeons but the Ravenclaw Common Room. Draco absently followed with growing apprehension.

“Have you seen Harry?” He asked Pansy, uncharacteristically biting down on his lower lip.

“No darling, I—” She paused once she saw the look on his face. “Draco you look ghastly...I’m sure he’s fine.” She reassured him.

“I’m not worried...just asking.” He snapped irritably.

His father taught him to never show weakness or vulnerability, even as a child. He was a special child after all. He was a Pureblood _and_ a Malfoy. That meant he had to take care to maintain composure at all times.

“Sure, right.” Pansy said with an annoyingly knowing smile.

“I’m sure Potter can take care of himself.” He drawled out distantly.

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Quite.” She agreed, finally catching on.

Once in the Ravenclaw Common Room, Draco busied himself chatting about nonessential things with the rest of the lot so he didn’t worry about Harry.

When the conversation became particularly dull, he studied the Ravenclaw common room. The couches were navy blue, which wasn’t a complete tragedy. The lamps were bronze, matching the coffee table in front of them. It was not entirely unpleasant.

All of the walls were unsurprisingly lined with bookshelves, which Draco secretly found rather amazing, even if he had loudly stated how dull they were to anyone who would listen. Theo had rolled his eyes, and whispered to Blaise, which he found particularly annoying. Their lack of respect for someone as important as him was dangerously blasphemous. _Don’t they know I could end them with one owl to my father?_ That was what Draco told himself, anyway.

By the time they were led back to their dormitories with the promise that House-elves will bring the feast to them; Draco was agitated and worried since neither Snape nor Harry had showed up.

Food was bountiful and it appeared all was safe again, except for those missing, which was, of course, left unmentioned.

The feast in was near over when the door opened up. Draco resisted the urge to glance over, not wanting to appear concerned. There were a few whispers about Harry and Snape but no one seemed to take it too seriously.

Finally, he glances over at Harry as he came in. He eyed him steadily before slowly, casually approaching.

“Where in Salazar’s name have you been?” Draco hissed angrily so only he could hear.

 _How dare he disappear without a trace!_ Draco thought irritably.

Upon studying the lad closer, he realized how pale he was. “Are you alright?” He murmured quietly.

Harry pointed toward their dormitory and started to head in that direction. He certainly did not like being told what to do but the other lad looked like he had quite the fright so Draco couldn't help but follow.

When they were finally alone, Draco sat on his bed while watching Harry pace in front of it.

“Spit it out already, Potter.” Draco felt disoriented just looking at him.

Harry, as per usual, paid little heed.

“I couldn’t figure out why Snape wasn’t following the other Professors to the dungeons so I followed him. He headed up toward the third floor---”

“What do you mean you followed him? Are you mad?” Draco interjected.

“No! Listen to me, Draco. Snape was up to something! I had to follow. But—” he gulped. “I ran into the troll and then those idiot Gryffindors. We fought off the troll and then Snape, Quirrell, and McGonagall showed up.” He stopped then and glanced at Draco, whose jaw dropped.

When he regained composure, he couldn’t help but drill Harry with questions.

“Why would you think Snape is up to something? Is he alright? I haven’t seen him all night.” He paused, wrinkling his nose slightly. “Why were they there?” Draco added in a low hiss. 

“It was odd. Why was he going up toward the Forbidden Corridor instead of aiding the other professors in the dungeon?” Harry shook his head. “As for the Gryffindors—well apparently Longbottom and that knob Seamus went to look for Granger who went after the troll herself because she read about it.” He rolled his eyes. “I guess they wanted to play hero like a typical Gryffindor.”

For a long moment, Draco was silent. He was right; something about Snape’s behavior didn’t add up. He wanted to ask Snape himself but was not certain on how to go about it without sounding accusatory. Malfoys were well versed in obtaining information without the other party realizing how helpful they were being. Unfortunately, Snape also knew that.

The Gryffindor’s involvement just aggravated him. “Let me guess, they kissed their feet and worshiped Longbottom—the boy who lived—and found a way to blame you.”

Harry shook his head. “Granger, the martyr, owned up to her mistakes and McGonagall took five whole points from them. Snape took five points from me after a lecture.”

Draco raised a brow at that. Snape didn’t normally take points from his own House if he could help it. Then again, McGonagall was irritatingly self-righteous. He couldn’t blame him for playing the part to be spared a lecture.

Draco shook himself out of his thoughts as he listened to the rest of the tale.

“Then Seamus and Longbottom received five points each. We were awarded ten points from McGonagall, which seemed to irritate Snape for reasons unknown.” Harry paused, “He seems to genuinely hate me.”

Draco stared in awe at his friend, both for the accusations and the inherent bravery required to stick around to fight a troll. He wanted to tell him that Snape didn’t hate him but he was starting to believe it himself.

He remained quiet, despite wanting to ask if the other lad was alright but he couldn’t form the words. Silence erupted between them even as Harry came to sit next to him on the bed.

Finally, Draco broke the silence. “Tell me everything about fighting the troll.”

Once Harry finished, Draco was quiet again, scowling. _Why did he put himself in danger for the Mudblood, the boy who lived, and the idiot Irish Gryffindor?_ Harry made it sound like it was self-preservation but Draco knew better than that. Harry cared more than he let on.

He could have left yet he didn’t. That was abundantly clear. _Why did he play the part of the hero_? It was such a Gryffindor thing to do.

Instead of voicing any of this, he found himself uttering, “I’m glad you’re OK, mate.” Bloody Potter was making him go soft with his stupid heroics.

Harry loft his brows in obvious surprise.

“Shut up, Potter.” He hissed, ignoring his mate’s smirk.

“I won’t tell anyone you have a heart, after all, Malfoy.” Harry returned, his eyes shimmering with mischief. “But you can’t tell about the troll. Not anyone. Not even Pansy.”

“Bloody git.” Draco venomously returned. “Not a word.” He had started to smile too. Apparently, they were contagious.

They talked a bit longer before both retiring to their beds for the night.

November brought on cold weather and Quidditch. Draco barely saw Harry due to Marcus’ relentless and vigorous practices. They were playing against Gryffindor first. It was important that they won. If they lost, those bloody Gryffindor gits would move up to second place in the House Championship. That would be unacceptable.

Draco convinced Harry to check out the book _Quidditch through the Ages_ from the library for reference. The day before the match they sat in the courtyard, going over how to get away with as many of the seven-hundred ways to commit _a_ foul listed as possible. Draco conjured a bright blue fire that he cleverly lit in a jar to keep them somewhat warm as they read. Once they exhausted every possibility, they turned their backs against the flame. That was when Draco noticed Snape glancing their way. He wouldn’t normally worry about Snape paying much mind to him breaking rules but since Harry was with him his stomach clenched with nervous and beads of sweat formed on his forehead despite the cold.

Harry and Draco exchanged worried glances as they stood closer so that they blocked the fire. Snape crossed the field, with a notable limp. It occurred to Draco then that his Godfather, and Head of Slytherin House, had been quite absent as of late.

“What’s that you’ve got there, Potter?” He drawled out as he approached.

Harry showed him the book, _Quidditch through the Ages_.

“Library books are not to be taken outside from school.” Snape said. “Give it to me.”

His jaw dropped. _He just made that up._ He was outraged by such injustice in their own house. Snape sent Draco a pointed look that convinced him not to object. Harry begrudgingly handed it over to him.

Draco narrowed his gaze angrily at his Godfather as he left. He had some nerve.

Draco scowled. _At least we didn’t get points taken away._

“He made that rule up.” Harry snapped as soon as Snape was out of earshot. “Wonder what’s wrong with his leg?” He added, staring after him with furrowed brows.

“No clue.” Draco was still fuming over what just transpired.

Later that night, he and Harry was working on their Charms homework when the other lad abruptly stood to his feet, startling Draco a bit.

“I’m going to get that book back.” He announced to Draco.

He stood with him. “Not alone, you’re not. He’s my Godfather. Salazar knows what sort of trouble you’d end up in without me.”

Harry perked a ridiculously bushy brow at him. “So, you admit it. He has it out for me?” His lips curled into a smug smile.

Draco returned it with a scowl. “Yes, you insufferable git, now let's go.”

With an irritating, arrogant snicker, Harry led Draco toward the staff-room. “He will be pressured with other professors about.” Harry reasoned.

Harry knocked on the door but there was no answer.

“Forget about the book, Harry.” Draco regretted agreeing to this madness.

“No! He had no right to just take it.” Harry hissed through his teeth.

Draco agreed but this plan was flawed. No telling if other professors would be there. Then he spotted Longbottom and the Mudblood coming down the corridor and he formulated a plan.

“Do try to keep up.” He hissed at Harry quietly.

Harry sent him a dark look but nodded his head slightly.

“I’m telling you; the git had said _Aloramora_ to unlock the door.” Draco said loudly.

Harry perked a brow, pausing and then turned to the door. “ _Aloramora_!” He loudly stated.

Stepping forward, Draco pulled on the handle dramatically. He had no idea if it was actually locked so he knew that it would work in their favor either way.

“It didn’t work.” He grumbled.

“That's because you’re doing it all wrong.” The know-it-all Mudblood’s voice was like the shriek of a banshee.

“Well, what is it then?” He spat as he whirled around, facing them.

“Like I’m going to help you break in.” She dared to roll her eyes at them.

“Just ignore them. They’ll end up in trouble either way.” Longbottom said beside her.

“Shut up fatass. Surely you unlocking the door was a fluke.” He taunted.

“It was not! I said it! You saw me, Malfoy!” He sputtered out.

“I’m not sure what I saw.” Draco said with a smirk.

Harry turned and sent Longbottom and the Mudblood a rather convincingly distressed look. “Can you please help us? My book is in there and its due tomorrow. Snape took it and won’t return it.” He pleaded. “You owe me one, Granger.”

Draco turned toward his friend. He was in awe of his rather cunning guilt tactic. He turned back to the duo, sending them a rather smug smirk.

“Don’t, Hermione.” Longbottom warned as he glared at Draco.

“It’s fine, Neville. He’s right.” The Mudblood then let out an audible sigh and then stepped forward. “Fine. Listen close now.” She instructed. “ _Alohomora_.” Nothing happened.

She frowned at it a moment before reaching to open it. A horrible scene came into view.

Snape and Filch stood inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing him bandages.

“Blasted thing.” Snape was saying. “How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?”

The Mudblood tried to close the door discreetly but it was too late.

“GRANGER! LONGBOTTOM! MALFOY! POTTER!”

Snape’s face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes to quickly hide his leg. Draco instantly regretted getting involved in this.

Harry, however, was stupidly relentless. “I just wondered if I could get my book back.”

“GET OUT! OUT!”

They all scurried out and headed down the corridor quickly. They said nothing as they all rushed back toward their dormitories.

Once safely inside, they breathlessly headed to the common room couch, huddled together so no one could overhear them.

“See? He’s up to something!” Harry whispered. “He tried to get past the three-headed dog at Halloween. That’s where I saw him heading! He probably let in the troll as a diversion!”

Draco shook his head, his face ashen. “Not possible. He’s my Godfather. There is another explanation—just let me talk to him—-”

Harry rudely cut him off, “No! That thing is guarding something and Snape is trying to get it!”

“Even if he is, who cares? Maybe he’s trying to prove Dumbledore is a crackpot who is putting the school in danger unnecessarily!” He countered. “Leave it alone! What are you, a Gryffindor?” He narrowed his eyes at him. Sometimes he wondered.

Harry stopped and thought about it. “You’re right. I don’t know. Who bloody cares. More important things to deal with. Like the Quidditch match tomorrow.” He said with a resolve that Draco was unsure he believed.

“Good. You can’t let this business interfere with the important things.” Draco insisted as he started for their dormitory.

“That’s right. I have a Quidditch Match to win.”

Even after Draco was in bed, he couldn’t help but wonder if Harry had a point. Not that he’d admit it out loud. It was like he said; it was not their concern.

At breakfast, Draco noticed that Harry looked quite green around the gills. He managed to stifle the bitterness that came up when he thought of the fact that Harry made the team while he did not.

He spoke in a low tone that could not be overheard. “You’ll do fine, Potter. You’re much better than the whole Gryffindor team combined.”

Harry met Draco’s gaze briefly and gave him a nod. He went back to staring at his oatmeal. “I’m not real hungry.” He muttered.

“No need to worry, Potter. You probably won’t die.” Marcus and a few other older years laughed.

Harry glared ominously at him, “Shove off. You should be nicer to me since I’m the one who will be winning it for _our_ team.” He snapped.

Draco snickered.

Marcus turned to him, “Wouldn’t laugh if I were you, reject. You didn’t even make it through try-outs.”

“Leave him alone. It was rigged and we all know it.” Harry stated. “Now sod off so we can win this cup.” He stood up, abandoning his oatmeal.

Draco sent a glare toward Marcus and then stood up after Harry. They headed out of the Great Hall and returned to the Dormitories. Harry readied himself to play while he prepared to cheer him on. He was happy for Harry yet he also wished he was playing instead.

Once settled in the stands with Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy, he waited for their team to enter the field. Gryffindor entered first and he booed at them loudly with a smirk. He expected his own team to come out at any moment. When they didn’t, he glanced about. _Where are they?_

He clapped and cheered when they finally came out onto the field. Harry waved at the crowd in a strangely enthusiastic manner.

“Now I want a fair game, all of you.” Madam Hooch called out as she stood in the middle of the field.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand after attempting to mount it backwards three times. Laughter rang out in the crowds in a way that was just as embarrassing for Slytherin. _What’s wrong with you?_ Draco thought with annoyance and concern.

Once Harry was situated; Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle. Fifteen brooms rose up, high into the air. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor -- what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too--”

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor." The Weasel’s friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match. He was apparently being closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

Draco quickly lost track of the game as he took note of Harry flying in a small circle in the corner of the field.

“What is Harry doing?” Pansy hissed out in aggravation.

That was precisely what Draco was wondering. People in the stands were pointing and laughing at his antics.

“Harry Potter, the seeker for the Slytherin team, the youngest Seeker in a century, mind you, appears to be creating his own fun as he goes around in circles. A distraction technique or proof that Slytherin are not all there--” He trailed off after what Draco hoped was a reprimand for his remarks. “Anyway, Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes -- she's really flying -- dodges a speeding Bludger -- the goal posts are ahead-- come on, now, Angelina -- Keeper Bletchley dives -- misses --GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

The annoying Gryffindors cheer while the Slytherins rightfully display outrage at the scene.

“Come on Potter, you idiot, get it together!” An older Slytherin called out.

Harry turned then and waved at them gaily, just as the snitch appeared right by his nose.

“--and there is the snitch right by Harry Potter’s nose! But he doesn’t seem to notice---perhaps the wrong one for the position---or right one if you’re from any of the other Houses---”

Draco wanted to hex the commentator. He eyed Harry with trepidation, more worried than agitated by this point. The rest of the game became a blur as he witnessed Harry act like he had no idea what he was doing. He nearly fell off his broom several times. He vaguely heard the rest of Slytherin cheering after a goal scored. He couldn’t stop watching Harry with a strong sense of foreboding overwhelming him.

“Gryffindor in possession--”

That was when a rogue Bludger hit Harry directly in the head. He took nosedive straight toward the ground as though he had forgotten how to fly. Draco stood, his mouth ajar, eyes bugging out of his head.

“Harry!” He yelled out, not caring how unbecoming it was.

Then, in a blink of an eye, Harry’s entire body slowed, as though time was reforming around him. He landed on the ground with a slight bounce as though he was on an invisible pillow. Draco turned and saw Dumbledore standing with his wand out. He had no idea what he had done but he didn’t care. Harry was safe.

It was then, the stupid Gryffindor Seeker caught the Snitch. Everyone cheered wildly, except for Slytherin, who seemed to be the only ones to remember that Harry Potter had crashed. Some of his fellow Slytherins were groaning and cursing Harry while others expressed concern. It didn’t matter to Draco as long as he was OK. The teachers gathered on the field, surrounding Harry, who appeared oblivious that anything had occurred at all. He was laughing rather hysterically.

Draco wanted to run out to the field after him but he didn’t. Madam Pomfrey, the school Matron, led Harry to the hospital wing. Most of the school didn’t seem to notice anything was off all because some Gryffindor nitwit caught the stupid bloody snitch.

Draco easily slipped out of the stands and headed to the hospital wing. He was stopped halfway to his bed by Madam Pomfrey.

“Excuse me, what are you doing?” She shrilly greeted him.

“My friend Harry is here. I saw you bring him up here.” Draco grunted.

“I’m afraid there will be no visitors at this time. Now out, out!” She ushered him to the door.

Harry didn’t come back to the Dormitory until much later. He looked quite miserable as he slowly walked in.

“What happened? Are you alright?” Draco was bursting at the seams.

“Yes, fine. Nothing is hurt or anything. They kept asking me about weird behavior but I don’t recall doing anything odd. They ended up writing it off as stress-induced hysteria but I heard them whisper about the Confundus Charm.” He shrugged his shoulders dismissively. “Marcus just informed me I’m off the team, anyhow.” He hung his head.

Draco tried to process everything told to him. “What? Hysteria? Confundus Charm? Off the team? What? He can’t do that!” He was outraged. “My father will hear of this!” He exclaimed; all prior jealousy melted away in an instant.

“Sure, he can. He said this is why First Years shouldn’t be able to play. The stress of it all. I honestly don’t recall much about the game. Yet I didn't even hit my head! I suppose he’s right about the stress.”

“No, he’s not! I--it was so odd the way you were acting. I can go to my father and he can make him--”

Harry cut him off. “No...it’s OK. I think I’m just going to go to bed now. Goodnight.” With the most dejected look that Draco had ever seen, Harry headed to his bed.

He sighed and resolved to go to bed as well, but sleep didn’t come for hours.


	11. The Keeper of Keys and Grounds.

Hermione, Seamus, and Neville hunched in close at the library table so that others could not overhear. 

They had just finished bringing Seamus up to speed on what happened in the staff room.

“That’s mad! A right holy show if ya ask me!” Seamus remarked.

“It really was.” Neville agreed. 

It had been quite terrifying, not to mention suspicious. Snape was definitely up to something.

“I think a spell was cast on Harry so that he would get knocked off his broom.” Hermione interrupted Neville’s thoughts.

“So? Sounds like a prank to me. Maybe Fred and George was taking the mickey out of him.” Seamus appeared unfazed.

“It was far too advanced for Fred and George. However, that does not rule out older students.” Hermione stated. “I was trying to find which one it was but I’m not quite sure.” She admitted as though it was physically painful to say so.

“I agree that it was advanced but I’m not so sure it was a prank.” Neville spoke up finally.

The other two turned to gape at him. 

“What makes you think that?” Hermione finally spoke up.

“Think about everything that has happened. Harry followed Snape when the troll was released on Halloween, Then, in the staff room we hear Snape clearly talking about that _thing_ that is guarding something in the Forbidden Corridor. Then the Quidditch incident happened so soon after we were caught. You cannot honestly believe that is all coincidence.” Neville explained.

Silence erupted between the trio.

“But why would Snape be after something in the school or Harry for that matter? Harry is a Slytherin, after all.” Hermione pointed out.

“But Snape hates him for some reason. You’ve seen him in class. He might hate him more than he hates me.” Neville countered.

“True but still—he’s a Professor!” Hermione sounded outraged by the concept.

“Yeah but I don’t think Snape is the full shilling.” Seamus stated. “Look how he treats Neville for no reason. Bloody mad, that one.

Neville had to smile at that. He was thankful for his friends. He never had this sort of bonding with people his age. It was a relief to get his thoughts off his chest.

“Anyway, we need to figure out what the creature is and what it is that he’s guarding.” Neville said.

“I looked it up in this book but couldn’t find it.” She reached in her bag and pulled out a book called, _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. “I think we need to visit Hagrid, the Gamekeeper.” Hermione stated.

“The large bloke who guided us to Hogwarts?” Seamus asked, brows nearly reaching the hairline of his tousled sandy hair.

“Exactly.” She stated.

“What makes you think he’d say anything to us?” Neville’s lips pursed in thought.

“We could always...just act like we heard about a creature and were interested.” Hermione said.

“What about the rest? He probably doesn’t know what it’s guarding any more than we do.” Seamus pointed out.

“He’s the gameskeeper and Keeper of Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts. He _has_ to know something.” Hermione sighed and put the book away. “Let’s try for tomorrow after class.” She pressed. “I fear that we might have also seen too much and if Harry is targeted, we might be too. Especially Neville.” She chewed on her lips as she glanced at Neville. 

His brows crumpled with worry as he took in the implications of her statement. _Were they in danger? What if Snape had planned on killing Harry that day?_ Despite the way he bullied him; he didn’t wish him dead. All the more reason they had to find out what was going on. If they had enough evidence they could go straight to Dumbledore.

“Tomorrow after class it is.” Seamus broke the silence, finally.

The next day's classes crawled by so slow it seemed like Dumbledore had once again slowed time.

Finally, after the last class, Neville, Seamus, and Hermione met in the corridor outside out of the classroom. Ron passed by sending them dark looks before heading off after Dean and Liam. Neville had to roll his eyes. In the scheme of things, he was no better than Harry. 

As they headed down to Hagrid’s hut, Neville’s stomach churned with nerves and a growing sense of foreboding. 

Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door. This did not help Neville’s nerves. At least he not tripping over his feet as much.

The three of them exchanged nervous glances as they stood in front of the doorway.

Finally, Hermione let out an exasperated sigh, stepped forward and knocked on the door. 

Hagrid’s big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open. 

“Can I help yeh?” He had his leg out to hold back a barking dog from escaping out the door. 

Neville gulped. “Uh we wanted to ask about...a creature since as  Keeper of Keys and Grounds you probably have seen quite a few in the Forbidden Forest.” He unsuccessfully hid the shakiness in his voice.

Hagrid paused a moment and then broadly smiled. “Ah! Come on in!”

A large black dog hovered by their feet as Hagrid opened the door and ushered them in.

“Ah don’t mind him. He’s mostly harmless. A big ol teddy bear, Fang is.”

Hagrid was true to his word. By the time they were sitting at the round wooden table they were interacting with the dog like they’d known each other for ages.

“So, why don’t yeh start with yer names?” Hagrid said, with a perked brow.

Neville got the feeling he didn’t get many visitors. He frowned. _It must get lonely._

“I’m Hermione and this is Seamus and Neville.”

Hagrid studied Neville the longest. “Ah yes, the boy who lived. Quite the famous wizard yeh are.” He hummed. “Nice to meet all three of yeh.”

"Likewise." The three of them echoed one by one.

“A cuppa?” Hagrid offered.

They simply nodded their heads.

“So, down to business.” He said as he put the kettle on. “What are yeh curious about?” He asked as he studied them closely. 

“Oh. Well we heard about this _creature_ that has three heads at Hogwarts. Wondered if you knew what sort of creature it is?” Hermione said with braveness that Neville envied.

The tea kettle sang loudly on the stove, ignored by a bewildered Hagrid.

“How do you know about fluffy?” He asked.

“ _Fluffy?”_ Seamus inquired with his mouth ajar.

“Yeah—he’s mine—bought him off a Greek crappie I met in the pub las’ year—I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the—”

“Yes?” Hermione pressed. 

Hagrid’s eyes widened at the slip up. “Nothin’. Nothin’ is what that is. Now, don’t ask me anymore,” said Hagrid gruffly. “It’s top secret.”

“But Snape’s trying to steal it!” Seamus blurted out. 

Neville stared at him; jaw set in annoyance. _Smooth._

Silence filled the room. Hagrid appeared aghast. “Now look here the three of yeh. I don’t know what yer playin’ at coming here asking questions about Fluffy and accusing a teacher like tha’. Yer meddlin’ in things that don’t concern yeh—”

“But he tried to kill Harry and then he was trying to get past him to get to whatever it is guarding!” Seamus boldly interrupted.

Hagrid narrowed his eyes at them. “Thas’ ridiculous. Professor Snape is a Hogwarts teacher. He wouldn’t try an’ kill a student.” He insisted. “As fer the dog. You forget about it an’ you forget that it’s guardin’ something”, that’s between Professor Dumbledore an’ Nicolas Flamel—” He cut himself off upon realizing he shared more information, the visible part of his face reddening considerably.

“Who is Nicolas Flamel?” Neville couldn’t help but ask. 

“Thas no one now get out!” Hagrid ushered them to the door and shut the door in their faces.

The three of them stared at the door, stunned. “Well. At least we’ve got a wee bit more information.” Seamus said finally.

“Now to find out who Nicolas Flamel is.” They turned to walk away.

Neville couldn’t help but think they were over their head. Hagrid said it was dangerous. What were they doing? Shouldn’t they go to Professor Dumbledore with all of this? He mulled over it the whole way back to the castle. In the end, Neville concluded that Professor Dumbledore wouldn’t believe them anymore than Hagrid did. He realized with a sinking feeling, that they were all alone.

Christmas was coming and much to Neville’s relief, it was free of incident. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke up to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

They couldn’t wait for the holidays to start. While Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall has roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in mist before them and they kept as close together to their hot cauldrons. Neville hated to think what the Slytherin dormitories were like.

“I feel so sorry,” said Malfoy, one potions class, “for all the people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they’re not wanted at home.”

Neville knew both Seamus and Ron were staying at the castle for the holiday. Seamus told him that his parents were going on a muggle cruise and Ron’s family were going to visit Charlie in Romania. Choked out laughs came from Crabbe and Goyle. Harry stood beside Malfoy, snickering. Neville rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his assignment.

“Sod off you slimy git!” Ron snapped, causing Neville to glance up briefly from measuring out powdered spine of lionfish. He narrowed his eyes at Malfoy.

"Ignore him." Hermione advised and then turned her attention to her cauldron.

“What are you staring at, Longbottom? You should pay mind to your potion. Wouldn’t want to mess up yet another potion, you clumsy clod!” He snickered.

Neville’s face heated up but he forced himself to focus on his potion wordlessly. He told himself it wasn’t worth it but Malfoy was near impossible to ignore.

Hermione had quickly departed when class ended. When Neville, Ron, and Seamus left the dungeons, they found a large tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a large puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.

“Hey Hagrid, need some help?” Neville offered, feeling rather guilty about how their meeting went.

Hagrid glanced his way, frowning a moment and then his expression softened slightly. “Nah, I’m alright. Thanks, Neville.”

“Would you mind moving out of the way?” Came Malfoy’s cold drawl behind them.

Neville moved out of the way with a roll of the eyes. 

“You should be the one helping, Weasel. You could learn how to be a gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts—-that hut of Hagrid’s must seem like a palace compared to what your families used to.”

Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.

Neville winced.

“WEASLEY!” 

Ron let go of the front of Malfoy’s robes.

“He was provoked, Professor Snape.” Said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. “Malfoy was insultin’ his family.”

“Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid.” said Snape silkily. “Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn’t more. Move along, all of you.”

Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Harry pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking.

Neville noticed that Harry had hid behind Goyle once Snape approached. A good strategy, if not slightly concerning. He tried to meet his gaze as he passed but he was busy being smug with Malfoy. 

Neville frowned, shaking his head. He had been trying to get Harry alone to talk about what they found out but he seemed to never be without Malfoy at his side. He supposed it would have to wait until they returned. It was going to be just him and Gran this Christmas.

“Don’t worry about it, Ron. He’s an eejit. He’ll get his.” Seamus stated.

“I’ll get him.” Ron said, grinding his teeth at Malfoy’s back, “one of these days, I’ll get him.”

“That _we_ will.” Seamus nodded, sending a mischievous smirk his way.

Neville couldn’t resist smiling himself. At this point he wanted Malfoy to get his. Besides, it would be a nice break from searching high and low without success for information about Nicolas Flamel. 

“Tha’ boy is nothin’ but trouble.” Hagrid interjected. “Don’t yeh be worrying yourself about him. It’s almost Christmas!” He said. “Tell yeh what, come with me an’ see the Great Hall, looks a treat.

So, the three of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with Christmas decorations.

“Ah, Hagrid, the last tree—put it in the far corner, will you?”

The Great Hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung around all the walls, and twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

“We better hit the books.” Neville said to Seamus then.

“Just before the holidays? But keen aren’t yeh?” Hagrid inquired.

Ron too was sending them a curious glance. 

“Hermione is helping us with something.” Neville vaguely stated.

“Are we still playing Wizard’s chess later?” Ron asked Seamus. 

“Of course! Meet you in the commons room after dinner!” He promised. 

“You can come too, if you want.” Ron said after a few moments, cordial yet not unfriendly.

“Sure thing. If Hermione ever lets me leave the library!” He joked, making a face. 

The three boys laughed together and that was that. They were all friends again.

After an unsuccessful search for information about Nicolas Flamel, Neville watched Ron teach Seamus how to play Wizard’s chess. Ron was brilliant at it but Seamus was terrible. He finally let out an irritated growl and threw his hands up in defeat. Neville thought he was good at the game but Ron beat even him.

Despite the nagging worry about the three headed dog, Snape, and Nicolas Flamel, he was looking forward to spending the holiday with Gran.


	12. The holiday of disillusions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Non-graphic descriptions of abuse is present in this chapter.

Draco found his winter holiday to be mostly uneventful. His mother listened intently as he spoke about Harry and the rest of his friends, classes, and laughed at his animated stories about blood traitors and Mudbloods. 

His father scowled at the notion of those beneath Purebloods attended Hogwarts and Draco’s stories only proved to further irritate him. He and his mother, as a result, would only speak of it when his father was not around.

Draco sat on the emerald Canapé à Confidante Sofa and sipped tea while having a chat with his mother about how particularly inept the supposed boy who lived was.

“I hate to interrupt you gossiping hens,” His father said as he entered the room. “but it would seem that Draco is particularly friendly with a Harry Potter, the son of some of the _worst_ blood traitors.” He spat, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

The blood drained from Draco’s face, though, as taught, his expression remained stoic. 

“What do you mean, father?” He managed to ask in an even tone.

“It means that I was given word that your friend is part of a blood traitor family.” He hissed at him.

“I am sure that is not true...Draco?” His mother had sent him a reproachful look.

“I assure you, father. Whoever told you is mistaken. Harry Potter’s parents are dead. We can’t fault him for dead blood traitors, can we?” Despite his cold exterior, Draco was inwardly in a state of panic. His first real friend could not be a disgraceful blood traitor. It was not possible.

Father sneered at him. “Your “friend” is a liar. Lily and James Potter are not dead. They currently reside in the Janus Thickey Ward of Mungo Hospital for Maladies and Injuries after being properly punished by your Aunt Bellatrix for being Muggle and Mudblood sympathizers.” 

Draco forgot all formalities and lessons learned the past eleven years as he stood to his feet. “You’re lying! Snape did this! He’s lying because he has a personal vendetta against Harry for no reason! He’s a Pureblood Slytherin just like us!” He shouted; his hands curled into fists at his sides.

The pain stunned him more than anything. He didn’t remember hitting the floor until the blackness cleared and he saw his father hovering over him like a daunting figure. He rubbed his cheek as it throbbed in agony. He stared up at his father with wide eyes. He was terrified and vulnerable in an unacceptable manner.

“Lucius!” His mother gasped in surprise, Draco knew was an act; her face was painted with stricken horror even though she knew better.

Father ignored her. “Listen here, Draco. You will not speak to me in such a matter and you will not shame this family by associating with him. Do you understand me?” He hissed.

Draco gaped at him dumbly, his hands in front of his face as his dad leaned down over him. Instead of hitting him; he grabbed him by the ear and pulled him to his feet. Draco winced, cringing at the motion, yet powerless to stop it. He was only eleven.

His father pulled him by the collar, close to him now. “Do I make myself clear?” 

“Please, father.” He begged, rare tears in his eyes. “He can’t help it. He says they are dead. He says they’re dead like he is ashamed. Please.” 

He felt his father let go of him and then he saw black. It was several moments longer before he could see again. He was once again on the floor. 

“Don’t you ever speak out against Professor Snape again.” He hissed coldly. “And don’t ever cry in front of me again.” He added in an icy tone.

Draco sniffled and then straightened again. “Yes, father.” He spoke in a weaker tone than he would have liked.

“He may have renounced his parents but who does he stay with?” Father asked.

“I don’t know, sir.” Draco said meekly. 

“Find out. Then we will discuss this again.” With a whoosh of his robes, his father exited the room.

His mother swooped down and hugged him. There was blatant fear in her eyes as she healed him but he couldn’t feel anything at all.

He did his best to avoid his father for the rest of the holiday. His parents showered him with nice things for Christmas but for once Draco barely cared.

Once the holiday ended, he _gladly_ returned to Hogwarts. He had never been so relieved to be out of the Malfoy Manor in his life. Harry, the oblivious twit that he was, had rushed to him in the commons. He grabbed his arm and dragged him their dormitory, his cheeks flushed with excitement. Draco remembered upon seeing him what happened during the last Quidditch match. Harry seemed to have blissfully forgotten in his excitement so he decided not to bring it up.

“I got something amazing for Christmas!” He exclaimed when they were finally alone.

“What is it, Potter?” He coolly asked.

He didn’t seem to notice. 

Harry pulled out something fluid and silvery gray. It swayed as he held it up in the air. Draco gaped at him in shock. 

“Where did you get that?” He asked after a moment. 

“Look!” He shoved a note at Draco.

_Your father left this in my possession before he went into hiding. It is time it is returned to you. Use it well._

_A very Merry Christmas to you._

Draco read it repeatedly, shocked. What was his blood traitor father doing with something like this? He took note that there was no signature indicating who was in possession of it.

“It was on my bed when I returned from break!” The clueless dolt went on. 

“Put it on then.” Draco crossed his arms across his chest sourly.

_It’s not fair. I’m the special Pureblood from a highly esteemed family. Where is my special, unique gift?_

Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders. His big stupid head was suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He glanced down; his eyes bugged out at the sight.

“This is brilliant!” He exclaimed. “Think of the pranks we can pull now!” There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Slowly, Draco smiled. Oh, yes. _The perfect distraction_.

It was eleven O’clock A.M. when Draco and Harry pulled the cloak over them as they hovered close together. They had a glass of water, a bunch of Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks, and some Dungbombs that Harry must have bought at Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop during the holiday. 

They crept up to the Gryffindor Fat Lady quietly. While Draco held up the Invisibility Cloak, Harry carefully placed the fireworks in front of the painting. Once they were placed, he signaled to back up quickly. Harry then splashed the water on it. Harry quickly turned to him.

“Run!” He hissed out and they both hightailed it, invisibility cloak gliding through his hair as Draco held it to his neck like a cape. 

As they ran, they could hear the brilliant sound of the fireworks going off and the screams of the fat lady in the painting and the shouts of those in the Gryffindor House. Draco quickly stopped and signaled Harry over to get under it with him. They were trying hard not to crack up at the lot of them carrying on like cowards. _Some brave lot they are!_ Draco thought gleefully.

“Now!” Harry whispered, cutting through his ever-important thoughts. 

Draco pulled the Dungbomb out of his cloak and threw it at the gits. The stench was horrifying. 

“Peeves!” He heard Weasel yell. No answer, which made it grander. 

Then he heard footsteps behind them. “Quick! I bet we are still solid.” Draco whispered. 

They backed away and stuck to the wall in the corridor, watching the two of them pass. McGonagall, and much to his excitement, Peeves! At first, they didn’t seem to know who to blame. Then, due to his rep, they steered the blame toward Peeves. For once he seemed speechless. _That’s what he gets for trying to get us in trouble and leading us to that horrible creature._ Draco thought smugly. 

“It wasn’t me! You can’t tell the Bloody Baron!” Peeves begged in a way that seemed to convince the professors of his innocence.

“Time to go.” Harry whispered and they took off in the opposite direction, louder than intended. 

A rush of Professors and Filch were at a distance behind them. They were not fully covered by the cloak as they ran so if they were caught—-well he didn’t fancy another bruise from his father. 

They turned the corner and then another. Their pursuers were still nearby as they rounded another corner. A door stood ajar to their left and they ran into it. The footsteps passed them quickly as they caught their breath. They listened to the noise of their feet steadily distancing themselves from them before letting out a sigh of relief.

“That was close.” Harry breathlessly stated.

“Quite.” Draco irritably returned.

He turned then, taking in the room they hid in.

It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket. Propped up against the wall facing them was something that didn’t look like it belonged there. 

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top. _Erised Stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohi._

“Check this out.” Draco was in awe of it.

Harry stepped behind him. “Wow.” 

They gaped at it for several moments. Harry stepped forward, clapping his hands over his own mouth. His face paled with something akin to a horrified expression. 

“What’s wrong?” Alarm was in Draco’s voice. 

For several moments Harry didn’t answer.

“Potter! What is the matter with you?” He whispered harshly at him.

“Mum? Dad?” He whispered to the mirror in awe.

“What? Have you lost it?” Draco demanded, both concerned and irritated at once.

Harry either ignored him or had lost his bloody mind. Draco reached out and shoved him.

“Snap out of it, you git!” 

Harry finally turned to him, aggravatingly unphased. “Can’t you see them?”

Draco blinked slowly. “See who? It’s a mirror.” He was officially bonkers.

“I see my parents.” He dreamily replied. “Come closer.” He pulled Draco by the arm before he could object to this madness.

Draco gasped at the sight in front of him. He was there with the Slytherin House cup in front of a cheering crowd clad in green and silver. He was holding the golden snitch in his hand as well. His mother and father beamed proudly in front of him. His father had one hand on Harry’s shoulder and the other on his, gazed down at them with an approving expression. They kept shouting his name as they cheered for him. He was smiling broadly in amazement when he felt a jolt of the shoulders. He glared at Harry for interrupting his glory and then blinked in confusion. _What just happened?_

“Did you see them?” Harry sounded frantic.

“Who?” Draco asked distantly.

“My parents!” 

“Where?” Draco hissed as he stared back at the mirror, beaming at the cheering crowd.

“The mirror!” Harry pressed in irritation.

“No…” Draco explained what he saw, omitting the part where Harry was there.

They were quiet for a long moment after that.

“I wonder...if it tells the future.” Harry mused out loud.

Draco was silent, unsure whether to bring up what his father said or not.

“They said...there is no cure, though.” Harry croaked out; his lie briefly forgotten. 

“Harry…” Draco had no idea how to finish the sentence.

Harry turned his head towards him, his eyes widening. “I mean since they’re dead.” He said quickly. 

Draco sighed and simply nodded. It was too uncomfortable to do much else. He took one last glance at the mirror and stepped out of the way for Harry. The other lad gaped at Draco for a moment and then stepped in front of the mirror. He stared at it in such a way that caused a strange feeling to wash over him. _Sympathy?_ He knew he shouldn’t since they were blood traitors but one look at his mate’s face made him realize they were still his parents and it was unfair that he had to grow up without them.

A sudden noise outside in the corridor shattered their silence. Perhaps they were heard. 

“Quick!” Draco exclaimed, draping the cloak over the both of them.

The luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came around the corner. The two boys stood as still as statues, holding their breaths anxiously. _Did the cloak work on cats?_ Draco was struck with horror at the thought. After what seemed like ages, she turned and left.

“This is not safe—she might have gone for Fitch, I bet she heard us. Come on.” Harry stated as he pulled Draco out of the room.

They made it back to their dormitory and went to their separate beds after pulling off the cloak, and wordlessly went to bed.

Everyone was talking about the epic prank the next day. The Weasel twins had said they wished they thought of it while the Mudblood had scoffed about the childishness of the prank. The other Slytherins thought it was a stroke of cunning genius. Draco inwardly smirked at the sheer brilliance of it all. It was hard not to brag about it and take claim of the prank. The professors were beside themselves. Even Dumbledore announced that any information about the prank should reported to the Head of their House. He had the strangest inkling that he glanced straight in his and Harry’s direction. _The old coot has no proof_.

Irritatingly enough Harry seemed unaffected by it all. He was distracted and distant. Draco frowned. 

Later on, he cornered him in their shared Dormitory. “What’s wrong with you?” Worry betrayed his harsh tone.

“Nothing!” He snapped back as he grabbed his cloak.

It dawned on him then. “You’re going back to that mirror again.” He drawled out.

“Maybe.”

“Don’t you think we should play it safe? They are probably loads more vigilant with patrols now.” Draco pointed out.

“That’s why I’m going alone.” Harry responded.

“Harry…”

“They’re my parents!” He hissed gruffly as he threw the cloak over him and became invisible once again.

He couldn’t bring himself to argue with that. 

“Be careful.” Draco whispered long after he had gone.

He stared after him, his shoulders slumped, worry lines creasing his forehead.

He couldn’t help but think about what his father had said about Harry’s parents. Even if they were blood traitors, how was that Harry’s fault? He didn’t choose his parents any more than he did. He shook himself out of it. _I have to focus on finding out who he stays with now._ He inwardly winced at the notion of going home without any answers. 

“You keep doing that you’re going to get wrinkles.” Draco jumped at the sight of Blaise in front of him.

“Shut up you prat!” He spat at him and turned without another word to go to bed. 

_Stupid bloody Potter. If I get premature wrinkles because of him I am going to hex his face!_ He thought angrily.

He slipped into a fitful sleep where he endlessly fell surrounded in darkness, never once hitting the bottom.


	13. The Mirror of Erised and Nicolas Flamel.

After a rather quiet, peaceful holiday, Neville couldn’t help but dread returning to school. He looked forward to classes and seeing his friends but the overwhelming feeling of foreboding never left him.

He was right to feel that way. Shortly after their return, someone pulled a prank on the Gryffindor Dormitories. One moment they were sleeping, the next they heard explosions coming from outside the Fat Lady portrait. 

Students were yelling, the Fat Lady was screaming, and the staff members were trying to find the culprits. 

Then there was the smell after the dung bomb was thrown out of nowhere. It was a disaster. At first, they blamed Peeves but it was quickly discovered that for once neither he nor the Weasley twins were behind it. The pranksters remained unknown. It was so cunning that Neville and many others believed Slytherins were behind it. The mysteries were adding up but they remained unresolved. It didn’t seem to relate to the attack on Harry during Quidditch but they remained on their guard regardless.

A few days later, Neville was heading toward the Gryffindor common room after yet another unsuccessful session in the library researching Nicolas Flamel, when the stairs changed on him, sending him away from his destination. He sighed wearily. As he reached the floor and stepped forward off of it, he somehow tripped over his feet. As he stumbled onto the ground he heard an aggravated “ouch!” as he hit something solid. 

Neville let out a sharp yelp of pain. When he glanced around, though, he didn’t see anyone. He blinked as he rubbed his eyes, in silent wonder.

Then he saw a foot on the ground without a body attached. He opened his mouth to scream but a floating hand appeared over his mouth. Neville’s eyes widened, horrified. He momentarily believed he was going mad.

Then he saw Harry clearly in front of him as though he had always been there. He did a double take. _What is happening_?

“Shut up, Neville. I’ll explain soon but I’m going to need you to shut your gob first.” He hissed quietly.

Neville nodded his head in quiet understanding as Harry removed his hand from his mouth. Once in his feet, he shot Harry a silent, questioning glance. 

“Follow me.” Harry whispered. 

As Neville followed him, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was another trap. He was about to object to going any further when they reached an abandoned classroom with a giant mirror. He blinked, as puzzled as he was transfixed. 

“What is going on, Harry? What trick are you pulling? How did you…” He had no idea how to finish the sentence.

“Don’t worry about it. And if you say anything, I’ll be sure to make your life a living hell.” He threatened harshly. 

Neville narrowed his gaze, “I’m not scared of you, _Potter._ Maybe I was before but I am no longer the boy you can step on!” He exclaimed, sounding far braver than he felt.

Harry’s lips curled into a snarl, “Oh yeah?” He challenged as he stepped closer.

“Now, now, boys. Let’s not fight. After all, you were practically raised together, am I right?” A familiar voice spoke from behind them.

They turned and saw Albus Dumbledore. Whether he had walked in or had always been there they might never know.

“Sir. I was only joking.” Harry lied quickly.

“He was not.” Neville’s hands balled into angry fists. He was fed up with being pushed around, least of all by Harry.

“Boys, boys. Enough.” Dumbledore didn’t raise his voice yet his tone silenced them both. “Now. Do you know what this mirror is?” He questioned as though nothing had transpired.

Harry remained quiet as Neville shook his head, unsure whether they were in trouble.

“Neville, step in front of the mirror and tell me what you see.” Dumbledore continued.

Neville had no idea what he was playing at but he did what he was told. He gasped in shock when he saw his mum and dad standing there proudly with their hands on his shoulders. They were alive and smiling. He stepped forward and reached out, forgetting others were there. His hand hit the mirror with a smack. Bewildered, he took several paces back.

He turned back but all he saw was Dumbledore and Potter. He glanced back at the mirror, bewildered.

“So. You two have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised. I suppose you can gather what it does by now.” Dumbledore spoke behind him.

“It showed me my family.” Harry said after a prolonged silence. 

Neville could only stare at his parents as they beamed proudly at him.

“I trust it showed you yours, Neville?” Dumbledore pressed.

Neville could only nod his head, his face paled.

“Now, can you think of what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?”

Both lads shook their heads.

“Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as it is. Does that help?”

Neville considered his words carefully. After a moment, he understood.

“We see what we want...whatever we want.” Harry said.

“Yes and no.” Dumbledore stated. “What about you, Neville? What are your thoughts?”

“We see what we desire.” Neville said after a moment.

“Yes, that’s right.” He confirmed.

Harry shot Neville a hateful glance. He rolled his eyes at the other lad’s disdain.

Dumbledore chose to ignore it entirely. “It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, desperate desire of our hearts. Neither of you know your family so you see them standing around you. Draco Malfoy sees himself holding the Snitch and the House Cup with people around him because he wants to be acknowledged for his achievements, especially by his own father.”

“But how did you—-?” Harry interrupted to Neville’s dismay.

“I don’t need to sneak about to be invisible.” He sent Harry a pointed look that Neville didn’t quite understand.

“The Mirror, however, will give us neither knowledge nor truth. Men have wasted away, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing what is real or even possible.

“The Mirror will be moved to another location tomorrow and I ask that neither of you go looking for it again. If you _do_ run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now why don’t you two shake hands and be on your way.”

Both of them shifted with discomfort, clearly not fancying the thought of shaking hands.

“It does not do you well to dwell in hatred either. Men have wasted their lives chasing those they hate and fall into darkness. Over time they forget why they hate them in the first place but it would not matter as their hatred drove them to becoming less than human. Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir.” They said in unison.

Neville wasn’t entirely sure he fully understood.

Dumbledore said nothing but they both got the idea that he was waiting for them to shake hands. Begrudgingly, Neville held out his right hand in front of Harry. The other lad took his hand giving him two shakes before pulling back. 

“Enjoy the rest of the night.” Dumbledore said with the faintest of smiles across his facial features. 

As they headed out of the room, Harry sent him a scowl and then turned and walked away. Neville sighed and headed back to the Gryffindor tower.

When he recounted what happened to Seamus and Hermione, they stared at him in awe for a moment. Hermione was horrified about Dumbledore catching him where he did not belong (“you could have been in big trouble and picking a fight with Harry, honestly!”) and disappointed he hadn't found anything about Nicolas Flamel.

Seamus simply shook his head in disbelief, speechless.

They had almost given up hope of ever finding Nicolas Flamel in a library book, even though Neville was still sure he’d read the name somewhere.

They studied between classes and after dinner to no avail. Potions was horrible particularly horrible one chilly afternoon. Neville and Ron made a right mess of their potion much to the glee of Potter and Malfoy.

After class, Ron was mid-complaint when he fell to the ground with a thump. Those nearby, even Seamus, laughed. Hermione and Neville exchanged dark looks. They both recognized it instantly as the Leg-Locker Curse. 

“I see you are finally embracing your station, Weasel.” Malfoy sneered as he passed. Potter laughed heartily beside him. “Good on you, Weasel. I’m sure your mum, if she remembers which you are, will be so proud.” Malfoy continued. Neville curled his hands into fists again.

“Get bent! Go try to win daddy’s approval!” Neville shouted after Malfoy, unable to hold his tongue any longer.

Malfoy and Potter stopped, gaping at him for a moment and then stepped forward.

“What was that, Longbottom?” Malfoy snapped.

“You heard me.” He spat out.

Next thing they knew wands were out on all sides. Except for Hermione, who somehow had the persistent ability to remain calm.

“Stop it. All of you. Run along you two before you get us all in trouble.” 

They froze where they were as they heard footsteps coming closer from the classroom. Everyone put their wands down as Hermione turned to Ron and managed to perform the counter curse.

Ron, whose face was beat red, was scowling. He managed to send a begrudged “thank you” to Hermione. He finally stood to his feet, grumpily.

“Problem?” Snape drawled.

Neville had turned his attention to Ron and didn’t realize Potter and Malfoy had left.

“No sir.” They echoed one after another.

“Then I suggest you run along. People will think you’re...up to something.” He said ominously. 

Neville gulped, and sent a pointed look toward Hermione and Seamus. Ron was glowering but remained blissfully ignorant of what was really going on. _Will Snape attack us too?_ He almost wished he would already, the anticipation of impending doom was overwhelming.

The four of them nodded to Snape and quickly headed off.

Once in the Common Room, they went to sit by the fire. Ron was luckily focused on Malfoy, not Snape. They didn’t need to put another person in danger.

“I’m sick of that bloody prat, Malfoy.” Ron said miserably.

“Go to Professor McGonagall!” Hermione urged him.

Ron shook his head. “No way. We need to think of some kind of revenge.

“Aye. We need to get him back somehow.” Seamus agreed.

“He isn’t worth it.” Hermione insisted.

“She’s right. He isn’t.” Neville agreed.

“We’ve got to think of a way to show him up. Take him down a few notches.” Seamus continued, blatantly ignoring Neville.

“But how? Not like I am good at anything. Not much of a Gryffindor, am I?” Ron slumped his shoulders in defeat.

Neville frowned as he watched Ron. Then he remembered something. He felt the pocket of his robes and pulled out a Chocolate Frog, the very last one from the box Nan had given him for Christmas. He handed it to Ron, whose face twitched into a weak smile as he unwrapped it.

“You’re worth twelve of Malfoy.” Neville said. “The Sorting Hat put you in Gryffindor for a reason. Malfoy is an insecure twit who puts up a front.” 

“Fanks, Nefill.” Came his garbled reply after shoving the whole thing in his mouth. “I’m heading to bed. Do’ya want the card?” 

Neville took the card from Ron, watching him as a departed. He glanced down at the card. “Dumbledore again.” He frowned.

He had far too many of those. As he started to read the description once again, he gasped. 

“I’ve found him.” He said quietly. “I found Nicolas Flamel.” He stared at it in awe, wondering how he hadn’t realized it before. “I knew I heard the name before!” He exclaimed.

Seamus and Hermione exchanged shocked looks.

Neville continued, “Listen to this: ‘ _Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of Grindelwald in 1945, die the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood_ , _and on his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel’!”_

Hermione jumped to her feet with a burst of excitement. “Stay there!” she said, and she sprinted up the stairs to the girls dormitories. Neville smiled, anxious to know what it was. He could tell it was quite important.

She soon returned with an enormous book in her arms.

“I never thought to look in here!” She whispered excitedly. “I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading.”

Seamus snorted at her definition of “light reading” while Neville flashed a knowing smile. He was there when she checked it out. He himself was checking out a similarly thick book about Herbology.

Hermione ignored them as she frantically turned the pages.

At last she found what she was looking for. 

“I knew it!” She exclaimed. “Nicolas Flamel,” she whispered, “is the _only_ known maker of the Philosopher’s Stone _!_ ”

Neville gaped at her, his eyes widening. Seamus looked quite uncertain.

“Look!” She pointed to the passage. Neville and Seamus read:

 _The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. There have been many reports of the Philosopher's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight)_.

“See?” Hermione stated once Neville and Seamus finished. “The three-headed dog must be guarding Flamel’s Philosopher's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, that’s why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!”

“A Stone that makes gold and stops you from dying. Who wouldn’t want that?” Seamus said.

“And no wonder we couldn’t find Flamel in the _Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry.”_ Neville added. “He isn’t recent if he is six hundred and sixty-five years old.”

They spent the next week discussing whether to tell Potter this new bit of information.

“He’d probably tell Snape.” Seamus’ nose flared in anger at the notion of him being privy to the information.

“No. Snape hates him, remember?” Neville pointed out. “Besides, we still need to talk about the Quidditch match.”

“Another one is coming up, you know. Snape is refereeing.” Hermione stated.

“Maybe it’s a good thing Harry is off the team.” Seamus added.

Hermione glanced between the two of them. “Besides, Harry is in Slytherin and he could spy on him easier than any of us.”

“OK but how are we going to separate him from Malfoy?” Neville questioned.

He was met with silence.

“Grab him after the game. It will be such a madhouse that it will be easy to pull him aside unnoticed in the chaos.” Seamus finally stated.

Hermione and Neville turned to stare at him incredulously. 

Seamus’ face flushed crimson, his brows furrowing indignantly. “What? I have me moments!” 

Hermione beamed at him proudly then. “I know that. You are smart and you’re right to recognize it.” 

“Yes, definitely.” Neville agreed with a nod of his head.

Seamus was in a great mood for the rest of the day.

Neville couldn’t shake the terrible feeling that something awful was going to happen.


	14. The oaf's dragon.

As the next Quidditch match neared, Harry became increasingly moodier. It made it impossible for Draco to question him about his current guardian nor would he speak further about what happened at the prior Quidditch match. 

_Fine, you moody git. Have it your way._

He began to hanging with Crabbe and Goyle. They were horrible company conversationally but they were quick to laugh at his jokes and nodded in agreement when he complained about Mudbloods and blood traitors. Pansy and Daphne joined them sometimes but quickly divulge into their own world of fashion and gossip.

Crabbe and Goyle were not the sort one studied with, which was why he was alone when he entered the library. Predictably, the Mudblood was already there. Out of all the Mudbloods that stained their school and tarnished the reputation; he hated Granger the most. 

She was a know-it-all whose marks ranked higher than his. It was embarrassing and he just _knew_ he would hear of it if her scores beat his at the end of term.

He forced himself to put it out of his mind as he went to seek a particular book he needed. He stopped short when he heard voices nearby.

“Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?” He heard Weasel say.

_What was that oaf doing in the library? What was Weasel doing in the library for that matter? Didn’t he just copy off the Mudblood for answers?_

“Jus’ lookin’.” The meddling oaf replied. 

Draco had not forgotten their previous interaction before Christmas break.

“An’ what’re you lot up ter?” He asked.

 _Whoever taught the Oaf how to speak ought to be held on trial by the Ministry. No one should speak so poorly._ Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Studying for upcoming exams.” The Mudblood answered.

“Sorry I’m late. Peeves attacked me with bloody enchanted water balloons of all things.” The Irish prat spoke breathlessly. 

“Bloody peeves. Just your luck, eh Finnigan?” The Weasel smirked at him as the other bloke shoved at him teasingly.

“Just in time, really. We are still gathering books.” The Mudblood said. 

“Oh, hey Hagrid. What are you doing here?”

Draco could have sworn that Irish git--Finnigan sounded suspicious. _Perhaps he's as surprised as I am that the oaf can read._

“Like I told these two. I am jus’ lookin’!”

“What are you looking for? Maybe we—”

“Nothin’!” The oaf cut Finnigan off. “And I hope yeh ain’t medellin’ in things still.” He added.

“What?” 

Draco could almost imagine Weasel’s fat gaping gob hanging open.

“Tell you later.” Finnigan spoke quickly.

Draco tried to see their expressions through the bookshelf gaps but he couldn’t quite get a proper look.

There was silence and then harsh whispering.

“We know what Fluffy is guarding.” Finnigan pressed.

“Shh! Listen! Come an’ see me later…”. 

Draco tuned them out as he tried to figure out what they were on about. He eventually deemed it unimportant. He watched the oaf exit the library. Draco was about to leave when he heard Finnigan ask if it had to do with the stone. 

“What bloody Stone?” Weasel spoke loudly.

“Shut up!” The Mudblood snapped.

Draco blinked. _Stone? What were they on about now?_

“I’m going to see what section he was in.” Finnigan announced, ignoring the other two's bickering.

Draco remained hidden as he followed the three of them.

When Finnigan returned with a book; they started to whisper among themselves. He couldn’t quite hear them nor could he rightfully see what books they were reading.

“I wonder what he wants _those_ books for?” He finally heard the Mudblood state.

“He does like exotic pets…” Finnigan cut in.

“What?” Weasel exclaimed so loudly that Draco knocked over a bunch of books off the shelf. 

“Whose there? Is there someone earwiggin'? Finnigan questioned.

Draco didn’t wait to find out. He turned and hurried out of the library.

Despite still being upset that Harry was being such a moody little git, he was the first person he thought to seek out. 

Draco spotted Harry as he walked down the corridor. He approached quickly, grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him away.

“What are you doing?” Harry hissed.

Draco ignored him as he led him into an abandoned classroom by the arm and shut the door.

“What in Salazar’s name—” Harry started.

“Shut up, Potter and listen to me.”

He filled him in on the conversation he overheard. After he had finished Harry was quiet for a long moment.

“Suspicious.” He finally noted.

“Exactly. Who knows what that oaf is up to? But I do know that they are going to head over tonight.” Draco said. 

“They’ll probably help him too.” Harry said with a snarl.

“Exactly. They will probably bring Longbottom too so they can ensure that they can use his fame to evade consequences.” Draco continued.

“What’s your plan?” Harry said after a moment.

_He would know I have one already without me having to say so._

Draco smirked, nonetheless. “We use that invisibility cloak of yours. We wait for them by their daft Fat Lady portrait. We then follow the gits inside the disgrace that oaf calls a home so we can hear what they’re up to. We can use it as blackmail. Make the oaf resign once and for all. Then we can have a right sort of wizard manning the grounds of Hogwarts.”

Harry shook his head, “I don’t buy your blood purity rhetoric but taking down that lot? I’m in.”

Despite the praise, Draco frowned. _What part of Purebloods are better than everyone else does he not understand?_

“What?” Harry asked.

Draco tore from his thoughts. “Nothing. You been a right git lately.” It was the first thing he thought of.

“You too.” He hissed back.

He almost objected but he couldn’t bring himself to it. He missed actual conversations. Hanging with Crabbe and Goyle was like befriending two trolls.

“Fine.” Draco spat out in defeat.

“Good!” Harry cracked a smile and Draco couldn’t help but return it. 

“You’re such a bloody git.” Harry shook his head.

“You too.” Draco and Harry began to laugh in a freeing way he was rarely allowed to have.

They exited the classroom and headed to dinner, both of them filled with nervous energy about that night.

Hours later they stood under Harry’s invisibility cloak, waiting for the Gryffindors to sneak out.

“Are you sure they said tonight?” Harry hissed at him.

“Yes, you prat now shut up!” Draco returned angrily. It was the third time he asked. It took all of his energy not to pull off the cloak and beat him with it instead.

Luckily, the door opened and out came Finnigan, the Mudblood, Weasel, and Longbottom.

Draco and Harry followed after them as they headed out of the castle to the shack that Draco believed might just crumble at any time. _Hopefully not while we are in it_.

Harry and Draco stood back a bit as the boy who lived knocked on the oaf’s door.

“Who is it?” They heard from inside the door. 

Hagrid opened the door and shut it quickly, leaving Draco and Harry outside.

“Now what.” Harry whispered sharply.

“We wait. There has to be something.” Draco was not so quick to give up. 

“The drapes are closed.” Harry pointed out.

“Shut up. Let’s hover by the window. Maybe we’ll find a crack in the drapes.”

They had to stand on their tip toes so Harry had laid it on the bushes beside them in case they needed to drape it over them quickly.

For a long time, there was irritating silence. Draco’s arms ached and it was still a bit chilly. Time seemed to pass slowly as they stood there waiting for something, anything to occur. 

Finally, they heard the scurrying of feet and they threw on Harry’s cloak and followed behind them.

“A dragon egg. What _was_ he thinking?” The Mudblood spoke quietly.

“Bloody mental, that one.” Weasel remarked.

“I’m not saying it’s right but one has to admire his courage and ability to love the fiercest creatures.” Longbottom added.

The silence said it all even in darkness.

Draco nearly snorted. _What a bleeding heart._

“I suppose that’s true.” The Mudblood spoke up after a pregnant pause.

They listened to their dribble about class and the know-it-all Mudblood spewing out facts nobody cared about as they followed them.

They stopped a short distance from the Gryffindor tower, watching as the gits entered at the painting. Harry lifted the invisibility cloak, smirking.

“A dragon egg.” He stated with a mischievous grin.

Draco frowned. “No proof yet. He can easily hide an egg.” 

Harry shook his head, “That’s why we wait until it hatches. Not even that oaf can hide a dragon.”

“Indeed.” Draco agreed. “We wait.”

Once back in their dormitory, Draco tried to approach him about the Quidditch match.

“Look...something is funny about what happened to you...” Draco started.

Harry glared at him. “No there’s not! It was just some jealous twit who couldn’t stand that a first year was the youngest Seeker in a century.” He hissed venomously.

“The magic was too advanced, you aggravating half-wit!” Draco impatiently returned.

Seething, they glared at each other for a long moment.

Goodnight.” Harry abruptly stated.

Exasperated and ready to hex the git, Draco headed back to the common room and plopped down on the couch.

Millicent Bulstrode, a Slytherin he had never spoken to before, glanced up at him with a raised brow. She had a round face, straight long black hair, and mud colored eyes. Her wide frame filled out the entire roomy chair. He scowled at her and she glanced back at her book. He wasn’t sure if she ever spoke to anyone.

“Oh, Draco. What is eating you?” Pansy cooed at him as she sat next to him on the couch. 

He turned to her, thankful for the distraction from the boulder in the chair. 

“There is nothing the matter.” He primly replied.

“You can tell me.” There was a twinkle of mischief in her eye she had when she knew there was gossip afoot.

He rolled his eyes, but nonetheless caved. “Harry is being a git.” He complained. “I think something more occurred that day we played Gryffindor but he won’t listen to reason.”

She tutted at him. “If he won’t listen to reason, how is it _your_ problem?”

“He’s my friend and I think someone might be out for him.” 

Pansy perked up considerably at this. “Oh? Who?” She asked innocently enough. 

Draco knew better than to divulge that information with her.

“I don’t know.” He lied. “We can’t just sit here not do anything. We have our loyalty to each other.”

“Not to the point of putting ourselves in danger. Besides, if he won’t do anything, why should we? You can’t save someone who won’t help themselves. What are you, a Gryffindor?” She scolded.

Draco tried not to think of how similar it was to his own speech to Harry. _The git is rubbing off on me._ He thought bitterly.

“You’re right.” He said with resolve. “Thanks, Pansy. You always put things in perspective.”

She beamed at him. “Of course! It’s my job.” She bounced out of her seat. “Goodnight! Do get some rest. Wouldn’t want dark circles under your eyes!” 

Draco grumbled and then got up. He distinctly felt eyes on him. Millicent was staring at him with a thoughtful expression. He met her gaze, waiting for her to say something. 

When she glanced away again, Draco huffed and headed off to bed. He knew Pansy had a point but he couldn’t help but continue to mull it over in his mind. Eventually he fell into a deep, exhausted slumber.

Time passed without consequence, for the most part. The Quidditch match was a few days away and then before they knew it the Easter holiday would occur. He had to figure out a way to ask about Harry’s guardians. He didn’t fancy the thought of going home empty handed.

Harry was once again avoiding him. A sadness settled in Draco’s chest at the absence of his, dare he say it, best friend. He swiftly threw himself into his studies and focused on trying to beat out the Mudblood on top marks. 

He was walking down the corridor, up to his chin with textbooks, inwardly cursing his failed attempts to beat the Mudblood, when he spotted her with Longbottom, and Finnigan. They crossed his path without noticing he was there. 

“Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to watch a dragon hatching?” Finnigan questioned.

Draco’s ears perked as he followed quietly behind them.

“We’ve got lessons and we’ll get into trouble.” the Mudblood sensibly answered.

“Not to mention the trouble he’ll be in if someone finds out.” Longbottom piped up. “Still. We can’t just leave him.” He added.

“Aye. Now you’re sucking diesel!” Finnigan exclaimed.

The Mudblood let out an audible sigh. Draco stopped when they did.

“Fine, but not until later.” She sent them pointed glances.

“Let’s go to tell Ron. He’ll want to hear all about—-”

“Shhh!” Longbottom interrupted Finnigan.

They turned to Draco then, finally acknowledging his presence. He sent them a smug smirk. This would get Harry to speak to him. There was no way he’d resist fulfilling the rest of their plan. 

The three of them gaped at Draco a long moment and then hurried off. He snickered under his breath. _It’s finally time to take them down a few notches and rid the school of that dreadful monstrous oaf._ He thought gleefully as he took his heavy workload back to the common room.

Later that night Draco tried to corner Harry to tell him what he’d learned but he seemed uninterested for reasons Draco couldn’t fathom. 

It didn’t stop him from following them, sans the invisibility cloak. He hovered at the window even though the drapes were notably closed. 

He waited, hoping something would happen. He kept his nose pressed to the glass as time passed by. 

His head jerked back when the ratty drapes were roughly pulled from the window. He gaped at the flaming chair that the oaf was frantically trying to get out. He snickered to himself at the display before him. Once the fire was out, they returned to the table. _Pity it didn’t burn the eyesore to the ground._ He snorted.

His laughter was abruptly cut short when he saw what looked like a crumpled black umbrella on the table. The spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body. It had a long snout with wide nostrils, stubby horns, and bulging, orange eyes. Draco stared at the dragon in awe.

He had forgotten that he was not hidden until he saw the lot of them staring at him with bewildered expressions. His eyes widened in surprise and then bolted back to the castle as quick as he could without waiting. 

He was panting by the time he returned to the Slytherin Common Rooms. His face was flushed with excitement. _It hatched. Now we are getting somewhere!_

He wanted to tell Harry but since the prat wouldn’t go with him, he was just going to have to miss out. Draco had no problem taking all the glory.

He barely slept that night as he plotted the oaf and Gryffindor’s demise.


	15. The plight of two houses.

Neville was quite sure that Malfoy overhead them when they were discussing the dragon. ‘It was cracking’, Hagrid’s message had said. He wasn’t sure when he snuck up on them or how much he heard but the look on his face was quite unnerving.

It wasn’t until they saw Malfoy’s face in the window the night the egg hatched that they were certain he was going to cause trouble.

“Just let him go.” Neville urged Hagrid the following day. “Set him free.”

“I can’t,” said Hagrid. “He’s too little. He’d die.”

After a week the dragon grew three times in length. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn’t been doing his game-keeping duties because the dragon had continuously kept him busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor.

“I’ve decided to call him Norbert,” said Hagrid as he looked at the dragon with misty eyes.

“He’s lost his marbles.” Ron muttered in Neville’s ear.

“Hagrid,” Neville said loudly, “give it too weeks and Norbert will be as long as your house. Malfoy could go to Dumbledore at any moment.”

Hagrid bit his lip.

“I—I know I can’t keep him forever, but I can’t jus’ dump him, I can’t.”

Neville turned to Ron. “Charlie. He handles dragons, right? We could send Norbert to him. Charlie can take him and put him back in the wild!”

“Brilliant!” said Ron. “How about it, Hagrid?” 

Hagrid reluctantly agreed after a few moments.

The next week crept by slowly. On Thursday, Ron rushed into the Common Room. 

“It bit me!” He hissed. “I’m not going to be able to hold a quill for a week!” 

His hand was wrapped in a handkerchief.

“That dragon is the worst but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you’d think it was a fluffy bunny rabbit! When it bit me he told me off for frightening it. And when I left, he was singing it a lullaby. Never mind my bloody hand!”

“We have got to get you down to Madam Pomfrey.” Hermione stated, biting her lip anxiously. 

“Yeah, that looks bad. Are you alright?” Neville sent him a concerned look.

“And tell her what? I was bitten by the secret dragon Hagrid was keeping?” He shook his head in disbelief. “I’m fine, mate.” He added to Neville as an afterthought.

He had a point so they let it go.

On Friday they finally received a response from Charlie. They all piled on the couch in the Gryffindor common room. Neville, and Ron read it first and then handed it to Seamus and Hermione.

_Dear Ron,_

_How are you? Thanks for the letter -- I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon._

_Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark._

_Send me an answer as soon as possible._

_Love,_

_Charlie_

They exchanged somber looks.

“Saturday night then.” Hermione said a bit nervously. 

“It will be over soon enough.” Seamus gulped. 

“But first we talk to Potter at the match tomorrow.” Neville stated.

“Right.” They fell quiet again.

Neville couldn’t help but feel a heavy sense of foreboding.

It was a warm, sunny day on the day of the Quidditch match. Normally Neville couldn’t care less but they had a mission. 

Before the match Seamus helped Ron to see Madam Pomfrey. His hand had swollen twice its normal size. Neville just hoped Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t recognize that it was a dragon bite. Seamus said that it had turned an ugly shade of green. 

Seamus promised they’d visit after the game.

Neville tried to put it out of his mind as he spotted Potter and Malfoy sitting together in the stands not too far away. _Of course, they are._ Neville thought even Potter was too good for the likes of Malfoy. Then again, Potter had caused a great deal of trouble for them as well.

First things first, however. They had to corner Potter and talk about what happened at his first and only match. Seeing him now, Neville almost felt bad for him. He looked glum. 

Neville turned back to the other two. “Remember it’s _Locomotto Morris_ ,” he recited to them. 

All three of them had been practicing the Leg-Locker Curse just in case Potter gave them trouble.

“Aye. So you and Hermione have both said.” Seamus said with a roll of his eyes.

Neville turned back to where Malfoy and Potter sat but no longer saw them.

"Ouch!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, didn’t see you there.” 

Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe, Goyle, and Potter.

“Go away, Malfoy.” Neville said, exasperated.

“Aw, Longbottom, didn’t mean to _egg_ you on.” He laughed and the other three joined.

He, Hermione, and Seamus exchanged nervous glances. 

“Snape is refereeing.” Seamus stated, and they glanced over at him, distracted from Malfoy for the moment. 

“Of course he is. How else will he keep the Gryffindors in line?” Malfoy sneered. “It’s too bad Longbottom isn’t out there. We could make bets on how long he’d stay on his broom!”

“Would you shut it?” Neville hissed.

“Ooh. Hit a nerve, did I?” Malfoy goaded.

Crabbe and Goyle cackled but Potter merely sighed.

“Come _on_ Draco. We have more important things to discuss.” Potter hissed.

“You’re right. Besides, if they let Longbottom on the field all the other teams would yield to him out of pity. I mean, that’s the only reason he is a Gryffindor. Fat useless lump that he is. Only let in because he supposedly defeated You-Know-Who as a baby.”

Something in Neville snapped and he lunged himself at Malfoy and wrestled him to the ground. 

“Neville!” He heard Hermione yell out in surprise.

He vaguely heard Seamus cheering and then more fists were thrown. There was scuffling around him but his focus was on Malfoy. 

They rolled around under the seats as their own fists flew at each other’s faces. His fist connected to Malfoy’s cheek and then Neville got hit on the jaw. 

“ _Locomotto Morris!”_ Neville’s legs locked, rendering him motionless. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go!

He glanced over at Malfoy, who was still on top of him. He appeared unable to move his legs either. The other fighting stopped as well. 

“Now. If you boys will stop acting like idiots maybe we can enjoy what’s left of the game.” Hermione stiffly lectured.

Potter performed the countercurse and pulled a rather stunned Malfoy off of him. He helped him limp away. Neville could have sworn he saw Potter send Hermione a thankful glance. 

“Honestly, Neville. I’d expect this from Ron, but you?” She shook her head with obvious disappointment.

Seamus and Hermione helped pull him to his feet after performing the countercurse. The other lad whispered, “good one” in Neville’s ear so that Hermione couldn’t hear him.

Neville’s face reddened in shame. “I know. It’s just he’s so…I hate that prat!” He exclaimed.

“Yes, but you _know_ better than to stoop to his level.” She sighed. “How are we going to get Harry alone now?”

Neville sat down with a plop, realizing he may have ruined their plans.

Hermione bit down on her lip and handed him a tissue. “Your lip is bleeding a little. Your jaw is also swollen. Lucky for you, everyone is too outraged by Snape’s obvious biases against Gryffindor to notice you lot on the stands.” 

She rolled her eyes but there was a bit of a smile playing on her lips.

“I think we still can still do it. We just need to use the full body hex instead.” Seamus said beside them. 

Neville and Hermione exchanged looks and then turned to Seamus.

“You’re brilliant, Seamus.” Neville stated.

"Aye. Just not with a wand.” He stated. It was no secret he tended to make things explode with his. 

Neville was about to reassure him when there were shouts all around them.

“Gryffindor won! We are in the lead!” Shrieked Hermione as she jumped up and down in her seat.

Seamus and Neville cheered loudly, for a moment lost in the simple victory for their House.

As they dispersed into the field, moments later, they glanced around, seeking out Potter. 

Neville felt a strong hand on his arm as he was pulled away before he could grab his wand. He glanced over. It was Potter. At first, he figured he was seeking revenge for hitting his friend. Then he spotted Snape. They were heading toward the forbidden forest. They started to run after him. Neville tried his best not to fall but the trees darkened the woods enough that he inevitably fell over a branch. Snape stopped then and turned just as something was draped over them both. What was that?

“You really are useless.” Potter growled in his ear. 

Neville’s triumph over Malfoy had long since gone sour.

“Come on and stay close. Keep this over you.” Potter hissed.

Neville did what he was told, thankful that they slowed their pace. He was trembling in fear amidst the dark forest. Potter simply had a determined look on his face. 

Finally, they heard voices nearby. They couldn’t quite see the figures other than shadows but they could hear them faintly. They strained to catch what they were saying.

“...d-don’t know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus…”

“Oh, I thought we’d keep this private,” said Snape, his voice icy. “Students aren’t supposed to know about the Philosopher’s Stone, after all.”

Neville and Potter both leaned forward as Quirrell muttered something. Snape interrupted him.

“Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid’s yet?”

“B-but Severus, I—-”

“You don’t want me as your enemy, Quirrell,” said Snape, taking a step toward him.

“I-I don’t know what you—-”

“You know perfectly well what I mean.”

An owl hooted, drowning out the sound of their voices from afar. Neville was only able to catch the tail end of the conversation.

“...your little bit of hocus-pocus. I’m waiting.”

“B-but I d-d-don’t—-”

“Very well.” Snape cut in. “We’ll have another chat soon, when you’ve had time to think things over and decide where your loyalties lie.”

Potter and Neville exchanged glances in the darkness of the woods. ‘Let’s go.’ Potter mouthed as he carefully helped Neville to his feet. 

They secured what Neville realized to be an invisibility cloak and made their way out of the clearing. 

It was nearing dark now but Neville could see Quirrell, standing still as though petrified.

Once they were out of the woods, Potter pulled off the invisibility cloak.

“Where did you—-”

“Shh.” Potter harshly cut him off. “Don’t ever tell anyone about the cloak or I will make your life miserable, boy who lived.” He spat.

Neville gulped and nodded. He knew Potter could be brutal when he wanted to be. 

“We’ve got to talk.” Potter pressed on as though he hadn’t threatened Neville. 

“Yes, we do. But with Hermione, and Seamus.”

“Why?” Potter spat out.

“Because we have information for you.” Neville was already losing _his_ patience.

“Can’t handle it on your own, Longbottom?” He said in a way that distinctly reminded him of Malfoy.

He sighed. “I can handle myself just fine. Friends stick together. Not a concept you’d know.” He dryly stated. “Don’t want you to bring Malfoy anyway. And you know why.” He sent Potter a dark, leering look that caused him to loft his brows slightly.

After a moment he snorted, “Well. If you’re going to be dramatic about it, fine. Meet me where we saw the mirror in an hour.” 

He sauntered off into the distance. Neville rolled his eyes. He knew Harry would probably tell Malfoy later but this way he could at least avoid another fight. He licked his own lips and tasted copper. _Finally, my clumsiness comes in handy. No one asks where my bruises come from_. Neville thought to himself as he headed back to the Gryffindor towers.

“Where have you _been_?” Hermione squeaked. “We’ve been looking all over for you!”

“Aye mate! We are having a party! Fred and George stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens.” He gleefully stated. “We are taking some up to Ron in a few!”

As much as Neville wanted to stay and celebrate; they had more pressing matters at hand.

“Potter and I saw something. We are meeting in an hour to talk.” Neville gravely stated.

“What? He’s not bringing Malfoy, is he?” Seamus groaned. “Unless we are having another go at his face.”

Hermione sent him a disapproving look that made his cheeks flush.

“No, he’s not. We won’t be fighting this time either.” Neville said with confidence that had the other two shocked silent.

Seamus, Hermione and Neville brought cake to Ron in the recovery ward. He was excited they won but it didn’t seem to lift his spirits. He was in a terrible state of mind.

“It’s not just my hand, although it feels like it’s going to fall off. Malfoy told Madam Pomfrey he wanted to borrow one of my books. He wanted to come and have a good laugh at me. He kept threatening to tell her what really had bitten me—-I've told her it was a dog, but I don't think she believes me.”

They tried to calm him down. 

“It gets worse. I had put the letter in the book he took. He’s going to know about Saturday at midnight!” He groaned miserably.

“Well it’s too late to change the plans now.” Neville pointed out.

“We’ll just have to hope for the best.” Seamus anxiously stated.

Neville thought of Potter’s invisibility cloak just then. If only he could get him to loan it to them. Hermione and Seamus could keep a secret. He had to hope that deep down, there was good inside Potter.

After they left the hospital wing, they made their way down the corridors in silence with Neville leading the way.

When they entered the room, Potter was already waiting for them with a smug expression. 

“Wasn’t sure you’d actually show.” He sneered. 

“Save your show for Malfoy, Potter.” Neville snapped, too on edge to deal with his snark.

The three of them stared at him in shock long enough to make Neville feel uncomfortable.

Neville finally cleared his throat. “So, we were right, it _is_ the Philosopher's Stone.” He began.

“The what?” Potter asked with a bewildered expression. 

Hermione launched into an explanation about Nicolas Flamel and how the three-headed dog was guarding what was confirmed to be the Philosopher’s Stone.

Potter was quiet for a few moments before speaking.

“Snape was heading that way when the troll was let in on Halloween. That’s why I followed him. Then the day of the Quidditch match it was confirmed in the staff room…” He trailed off with furrowed brows.

“Harry, we think a spell was cast on you. It was quite advanced…” Hermione interjected.

Any doubt that it was Snape perished from his mind. He gulped.

“Why hasn’t he gone after any of us, then? Namely...me.” Neville pointed out.

“He probably doesn’t see any of _you_ as a threat. I mean, why would he? He probably doesn’t know you suspect anything.” Potter reasoned.

“What about the staff room?” Seamus spoke for the first time. “He saw Hermione and Neville at least.”

“Exactly. Maybe he’s just biding his time while he tries to bully Quirrell into helping him get to the Stone. He mentioned something about ‘hocus pocus’. I reckon there are other things guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy—-”

“Loads of enchantments, probably!” Seamus cut Neville off. “Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Snape needs to break through—”

“So, you mean the Stone’s only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?” said Hermione in alarm.

“We are running out of time.” Potter responded with a sense of urgency. 

He started to pace back and forth. “That day I fell off my broom they had said that I had the Confundus Charm placed on me. I looked it up and it is as you said, complex. I had thought perhaps hoped it was Marcus Flint wanting me off the team but why would he purposely let us lose like that?” He shook his head. “And no one would believe me if I said it was Snape. I know that Draco would but I didn’t want him involved in this. Snape is the head of the house and I’ve gotten him too involved as it is.” He stopped and turned to them almost looking relieved. 

It appeared he had been holding onto that for some time. Neville was surprised by the lengths he went to protect a git like Malfoy.

“We would have believed you, Harry.” Hermione said kindly.

He scuffed. “That’s rubbish. You would not have believed me until now.”

They remained quiet, knowing he was probably right.

“Slytherins aren't evil, you know.” He continued. “We aren’t bad people. I mean, most of them grew up different. Pureblood traditions and prejudices taught by their parents.” He explained. “Sirius, my Godfather, explained it to me a bit. Even his family had such values. He ran from home when he was sixteen and stayed with my parents. By the time his parents died he was he only Black not dead or in Azkaban so he was granted the house. We were apparently living in a dodgy neighborhood so he had no choice but to take it.”

“Wow. I didn’t know that.” Neville said in awe. 

“Well. It’s not something one normally talks about.” He said stiffly. “But see, my parents were considered blood traitors so it took some magical duct tape and enchantments to make things suitable for me.”

Neville was not about to ask about the magical duct tape.

“Why were they considered blood traitors? Aren’t you a Pureblood? You make it sound like you weren’t taught—” Seamus cut off. 

They could have sworn they heard footsteps in the distance. They remained still for several moments. Neville wished Potter brought that invisible cloak he owned. He knew better than to bring it up with the others there.

When all was quiet, they let out a collective sigh of relief. 

“We should probably get going but...honestly Harry I’m sorry.” Hermione stated. 

“I had no idea that happened to Sirius. I’m sorry.” He said quietly.

Seamus nodded in agreement but wasn’t eager to extend his condolences further than that.

“Thanks.” Harry said simply, as though he had no idea what else to say.

Hermione and Seamus started for the door after an awkward pause but Neville lingered a moment. “Pot-Harry, can I speak to you for a moment?” 

The other two turned, sending Neville a questioning look but didn’t ask. They left, whispering to each other quietly.

Harry perked a brow at him. “What?”

He glanced behind Harry's shoulder, just to make sure they were out of ear shot. “Your invisibility cloak...can I...could we use that? Hermione and Seamus wouldn’t tell.”

Harry furrowed his brows, “Why?” He demanded irritably.

“It’s--I can’t tell you--it’s just important, OK?” 

“No. I don’t trust them. Or you for that matter.” His expression had darkened considerably. “And tell your friends if they repeat anything I’ve said tonight they will be sorry.”

Neville suspected he regretted saying anything to them about Sirius.

“Oh, they wouldn’t tell. Po--Harry, please.” 

For a moment he thought he might oblige but then his expression darkened again. “No. Maybe if it was just you but not the other two.” He turned and exited the room. 

_So much for that._ Neville thought gloomily. 

He couldn’t blame him, really. It’s not like he’d trust any of _his_ friends either. He headed back to the Gryffindor tower, refusing to answer any questions about the interaction.


	16. The hitch in the plan.

Weasel had been far too easy to rile up once he was in the recovery ward. Draco was determined to add insult to injury by taking something of his using blackmail. Dangling the knowledge of the dragon was an amazing feat, and he didn’t hesitate to pat himself on the back for it.

Weasel apparently told the batty Matron that he was bit by a dog. By some miracle she bought the story. _Probably because he was a Gryffindor and therefore could do no wrong._

Draco was determined to take the gits down.

“I need to borrow his book.” He had said to Madam Pomfrey with all of the earnest demeanor of a Gryffindor he could muster. 

“I’ll return it as quick as possible.” He said to Weasel, playing nice in front of the Matron.

“If you don’t hand it over, I’m going to tell her the truth about what bit you.” He whispered harshly behind the Matron’s back.

Ron’s face reddened with fury upon realizing he had been defeated.

Draco waved the book at him tauntingly as he left, knowing full well there was nothing Weasel could do about it.

Once in the Slytherin Common Room, he started flipping through the pages. A letter on a piece of parchment fell out. He picked it up and read it all the way through. It was from some barking mad bloke named Charlie who wanted them to send the dragon off with some illegal dragon holders. He read it through again, making a note of the date and time, his eyes lighting up with delight.

He would have gone to Harry about it but he was no longer talking to the traitorous git. 

After a humiliating hit in the face by Longbottom during the game, he spotted Harry run off with Neville. He tried to follow but lost them quickly.

 _He must be using the cloak_. He thought darkly.

Draco seethed at the notion that he was running off into the Forbidden Forest with Longbottom of all people. _What were they doing?_

Later that night he had every intention of cornering Harry but he was nowhere to be found. He paced in the dormitories, grumbling to himself, no longer caring about composure. 

After exhausting himself cursing Potter’s traitorous ways, he headed to the common room to tackle some difficult Potions homework.

“What happened to you?” Draco jumped at the unfamiliar voice.

He turned his head, perking a brow when he realized it was Millicent. She sounded like the rolling thunder of an approaching storm.

“It was nothing.” He snapped.

She smirked. “That nothing left a nasty bruise on your cheek.”

Draco wasn’t sure if she was being friendly or not.

“So? It’s fine.” He murmured darkly. He hadn’t worked up the courage to go to Madam Pomfrey to have the bruising healed.

“What’s wrong, Draco, you and your little boyfriend have a fight?” She mocked.

“He is _not_ my boyfriend.” His eyes were like icy lightning bolts.

“Ah, so you aren't a complete loser, then.” Millicent smirked.

“What is your problem?” He trembled with fury.

It wasn’t even about the accusation that he couldn’t quite grasp even when he dished it out at Weasel at the beginning of the school year. It was that Harry had betrayed him after everything. With Gryffindor scum, no less. No one did that to _Draco Malfoy_. He was _special_. His family was _powerful_ and _connected._

 _Who else could compare to me?_ _Maybe he is a blood traitor like his parents._ He inwardly seethed that any sort of blood traitor befriended him let alone be in the superior House of Slytherin.

“If he did something to upset you don’t just sit there like a pathetic lump. _Do_ something about it.” She grunted. “Show him who's the better man.” Her lips curled into a cruel smile. 

Draco stared at her in surprise. _Why is she helping me?_ He thought.

“We need to weed out the wrong sort and keep our House pure.” She said after a moment. “Besides, you are ugly when you pout.”

She stood up and situated herself into the armchair, filling it with her girth. “And get your bloody bruise healed. You look like a pillock.”

She pulled out her own homework, leaving Draco’s head spinning. _What in Salazar’s name just happened?_

He glanced her way again but she paid no heed to him now. She returned to being a Gargoyle statue with the piercing gaze. He turned away, his eyes momentarily skimming his homework. _She’s right._ He was going to pay for his treacherous ways.

He headed towards his dormitory to conjure up a plan to not only take down the Blood traitors, the oaf, and the Mudblood, but his former friend too. 

Draco was sitting on his bed when Potter whirled into the room, preoccupied with Salazar knows what, and then disappeared without a word. _How unacceptable. I’m the one mad at him!_

He spotted the invisibility cloak sticking out from under Potter’s pillow. A conspiring smirk formed. He was going to find out what he was up to. He was starting to suspect that Potter went soft and started helping the losers with the dragon. He grabbed the invisibility cloak and draped it over himself and hurried after him.

At first, he couldn’t find him. _He’s quick, I’ll give him that._ He nearly gave up as he slowly made his way toward the room the mirror was. Perhaps it was still there. He could use a good cheering up. He stopped in the doorway when he saw Potter with Longbottom, Finnigan, and the Mudblood.

Potter was in the middle of a monologue about Snape being the one to attack him during Quidditch and stealing the Stone he overheard them discussing in the library. 

Draco furrowed his brows in concentration as he tried to process all of the information. He must have spaced because when he snapped out of his thoughts, Potter was talking about Sirius Black and his blood traitor parents.

 _Sirius Black? Like THE Blacks? From his mother’s side of the family? He was the one who was disowned. Why was he his guardian then?_ He heard enough to concede that his father was right. _How dare that ugly hat sort him with us?_

He seethed as he quietly tiptoed out of the room, still hidden under the invisibility cloak. 

At midnight Potter’s precious Gryffindor pets would go down and then so would he. _Father will finally be proud of me._ He thought, smugly. Everyone would praise him just like he saw in the mirror. He sauntered down the hallway, smirking behind the invisibility cloak. Once back in his dormitory, he briefly hid the invisibility cloak and headed toward Madam Pomfrey to take care of the pesky bruise on his cheek.

At around 11:00 P.M., Draco hid a good distance from the Gryffindor entrance. When the Mudblood, Finnigan, and Longbottom came out he followed as close behind them as he could manage. They were briefly stopped by Peeves playing tennis in the entrance hall.

By the time they arrived at the oaf’s shack it was rather dark out. It was cloudy, which made the night appear ominous.

Draco peeked in carefully between the gap between the drapes. He tried his best to see without becoming fully visible. 

The oaf had the dragon, who was far larger than he remembered, packed in a large cage. He couldn’t hear what they were saying but the ripping noses from the dragon were terrifying. _How dare he keep a dragon in the school for so long? Was he trying to kill them all?_

The daft git was sobbing like a baby as they left.

“Mommy will never forget you!” He heard the oaf cry out the door. _What an idiot._

He followed them as they made their way toward the castle. It was close to midnight as he followed them to the entrance hall and then headed toward Professor McGonagall’s quarters.

He nearly made it when he literally slammed into someone.

He lost balance and fell to the ground, the invisibility cloak slipping off of him.

“I _knew_ it! I knew you stole it you thieving prat!” Potter was seething as he spoke.

Draco’s nostrils flared angrily. “Well someone had to stop them! Considering you’re all cozy with them now; I didn’t think you’d be interested.” 

“So you steal from me? I thought you were my friend!” Harry shouted at him. 

“You were until I found out you’re just as much of a blood traitor as your parents!” Draco spat out.

Potter stared at him with daggers in his eyes. He stepped forward quickly and grabbed Draco by the robes.

“You take that back.” He growled out fiercely.

“Blood traitor. You don’t deserve to be in Slytherin. I’ll make sure they all know about your true background. Then you can go play with your Gryffindor friends.”

Draco forced himself to smirk despite the fact that Potter was lifting him up off the ground slightly, his feet dangling right above the floor.

“And I’ll tell everyone what a sad little daddy’s boy you are. And that you’re the one who got me off the team! I’ll say you got an older kid to cast the spell because you were jealous! You cost us that game. I’ll ruin your reputation once and for all!” Potter was literally spitting in his face. 

Draco gave him a hard kick in the knees in response. Potter dropped him hard on the ground as his knees buckled slightly. Tears welled up in his eyes but he wouldn’t allow them to fall. _How dare he speak to me in such a way!_

“You—” Potter started and then froze. Heavy footsteps were heard down the hallway. 

He quickly pulled the invisibility cloak that laid beside Draco and disappeared under it.

McGonagall appeared before him in a tartan bathrobe and a hairnet.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing out here wandering the halls so late, Malfoy?” She crossly questioned him.

“Professor, I know for a fact that Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, and Hermione Granger are out of bed! They’ve got a dragon from that oaf, Hagrid. They contacted—” 

McGonagall cut him off, visibly seething. “How _dare_ you come up with such lies!” 

She brought him to his feet by the ear and started to lead him down the corridor. 

“Detention!” She shouted. “And twenty points from Slytherin!”

“But Professor! The dragon!” He tried again. 

_Of course she didn’t believe me! Not if Longbottom’s involved.  
_

“What utter rubbish! Come on—-I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!”

“No...not him.” He whined. 

He thought all was lost when a miracle occurred. Coming right toward them was Filch, his ugly cat, followed by Longbottom, the Mudblood, and Finnigan.

“Caught them coming down the stairs of the Astronomy tower.” Filch wheezed.

Despite McGonagall’s firm grip in his ear he sneered at their miserable faces.

“Why I never!” McGonagall exclaimed.

“See? I told you—I told—”

“Quiet, Malfoy!” She interrupted in an exasperated tone. 

“You four, my office!” She demanded. She turned to Fitch, “Please retrieve Professor Snape and send him to my office immediately.” 

She finally let go of Draco’s ear as she led the four of them to her office. 

“Sit!” She commanded them. 

She slid behind her desk as they sat on the chairs across from her. Draco was unsure of himself, now. _Am I in trouble or about to be rewarded?_

Much to his relief; she addressed the other three first. 

“I never would have believed it of any of you. The Astronomy tour at 1 A.M.? _Explain yourselves_.”

It was the first time he’d ever seen the Mudblood utterly speechless. He suppressed a snicker. She was staring at her repulsive slippers, as still as a statue.

It was then that Professor Snape waltzed in, his unpleasant gaze fixated on Draco. He fidgeted in his chair. 

“Well well well. What have we here?” He said in a slippery tone.

His gaze quickly moved to the other three, much to Draco’s relief.

“These students were caught out of bed.” She informed him. “I think I’ve got an idea of what’s been going on,” said Professor McGonagall, her attention on the three Gryffindors. “It doesn’t take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. You thought you’d wait around to watch?” 

Draco managed to keep quiet, though he was dying to tell them that the dragon was real. He saw it himself! He supposed by now the dragon was long gone now.

“I’m disgusted,” said Professor McGonagall. “Four students out of bed in one night! I’ve never heard of such a thing!”

“Quite.” He agreed. “Perhaps expulsion should be delivered to the three Gryffindors who seem to think they are above the rules.” He glared at Longbottom as he said this.

Draco perked up at this. _Could it be a silver lining? With them gone, Harry would definitely be my friend again! I can teach him the proper way to be._

“I don’t think _that_ is necessary, Severus.”

McGonagall crushed his hope with six words. 

“Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Longbottom, I thought being a Gryffindor meant more to you than this. Mr. Finnigan, I thought you wiser than to blindly follow this foolishness! All three of you will receive detentions! _Nothing_ gives you the right to wander around school at night, especially these days, it’s very dangerous. Fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor.”

“ _Fifty_!” Finnigan gasped.

Draco smirked. They would lose the lead won in the last Quidditch match. _Serves them right._ He thought smugly.

“Fifty points each,” said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.

Draco’s eyes widened with glee. _It’s like another holiday!_

“Professor—-please” Neville pleaded.

“You _can’t—”_

 _“_ Don’t tell me what I can and cannot do, Finnigan. I’ve never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students right now.”

Draco might have smirked if Snape hadn’t spoken up then.

“Yes. Quite ashamed of _you_ as well, Malfoy. You should know better than to believe ridiculous lies.” His leering gaze caused Draco to sit back further in his chair and slump slightly. “Surprised Mr. Potter was not with you. Could he have been...hiding?”

He could feel the Gryffindor scum’s smug faces on him.

“Harry wasn’t with me. I assume he’s in bed.” He managed to get out a bit stiffly. He may have been furious with the git but he wasn’t about to snitch on him.

“I see.” Snape said. “25 points will be taken from Slytherin and you will also receive detention.” Snape continued. 

“But—But I—”

“Silence!” Snape didn’t raise his voice yet his words stole the words right out of his throat. He gulped.

“Off to bed. All of you!” McGonagall cut in.

They all scrambled from their chairs and headed back to their dormitories. Draco was unable to revel in the consequences of the Blood traitors and the Mudblood in lieu of his own punishment.

News traveled quickly about their adventures. By lunch the next day the whole school was talking about it. Everyone but those in Slytherin gave him hateful glares in the hallways. He had a few hexes fly his way, causing him to become quite irritatingly jumpy.

“Nice one, gettin’ the Gryffindors in trouble and their points taken away. They are going to be in last place for sure!” Marcus commented at dinner with a snicker. “Of course, you still lost us 25 points getting yourself caught. Not quite the cunning lad, are you? A real Slytherin wouldn’t have lost us any points!” He sneered at Draco. Other Slytherins joined him in laughing and he found himself slumping in his chair, uncharacteristically longing to disappear.

Between the hexes in the hallway and the jeering of his own housemates he found himself glancing over at Potter, who pretended he didn’t exist. He found that he hated fighting with him and wished he didn’t hate him so much. 

He turned at the hand on his arm. “He’ll come around, Draco.” Pansy said kindly. “Whatever happened between you will pass just as all this nonsense.” 

Draco wrinkled his nose, not much for pity. “I don’t know what you mean. I was merely thinking about what a knob Potter is!” He raised his voice as he spoke.

Potter didn’t look over but his jaw had tightened considerably and his hands curled into angry fists. Draco smirked, leaning back, satisfied by the reaction.

Pansy rolled her eyes in annoyance. “What _did_ happen between you two?” She dropped her voice to a whisper.

He found himself conflicted on whether to actually reveal to them the truth about his parents or to keep it a secret. He knew his father would expect him to tell but there was this other part of him that realized he would have crossed a line that he couldn’t come back from. He _had_ to say something. The tension between them was palpable. 

“He was hanging with Gryffindors, which I found quite disgusting as they are a bunch of Mudbloods and Blood traitors. He had the _nerve_ to say they aren’t that bad and he didn’t understand why as Purebloods we believe ourselves better than the rest. I tried to explain it to the git but he insisted it was rubbish. I told him I couldn’t be associated with him because he was starting to sound like a Blood traitor himself. What would his parents say if they were alive?” He pompously stated loud enough that Potter could hear.

Potter glanced over, eyes widened at first, certain he was going to spill his disturbing secret. When he saw that he wasn’t going to, there was a moment of relief and then fury quickly replaced it.

Some snickers had already broken out at the table, their gaze on the lad with a scrutinizing gaze.

Potter stood to his feet and marched up to Draco. His brows lofted, though a sneer was still curled on his lips.

“You stupid git! Who I associate with is none of your business.” Potter spat at him.

“Careful Potter, people will start wondering if you are a secret Gryffindor.” Draco snickered.

“You’re just jealous and bitter because no one actually likes you. They just like your father’s money. Now that you’ve lost us points—well money can only take you so far. It’s like you said about reputation being important with people like _us._ ” Potter venomously replied. 

He turned to walk away, leaving Draco in stunned silence for a moment. Then, before he could think it through, he jumped from his seat and pointed his wand and the git and called out, “P _etrificus Totalus!_ ”

Potter’s arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together and his whole body went rigid. He swayed where he stood and then fell flat on his face, stiff as a board.

There was an array of gasps echoing throughout the Great Hall. Draco’s heart was beating so hard he could barely acknowledge it. He knew he shouldn’t have done it but between the animosity and Potter pressing all his buttons, he had reached his breaking point. _To think I kept his precious secrets. I should have just told everyone the truth_. 

Longbottom and the Mudblood quickly went to Potter’s side. _Of course they would. Saint Potter made nice with the gits._

Longbottom glanced up, sending Draco a dark look. “What’ve you done to him?” He spat venomously at him.

“Who cares?” Weasel cut in.

Longbottom shot him a dark look.

“It’s the full Body-bind.” The Mudblood stated before he was able to answer, pointedly ignoring what Weasel said.

_Typical._

“Don’t worry. Your precious Potter will live.” He sneered instead.

A hand grasped roughly on his shoulder. He turned his head to see the snarling face of Snape. He inwardly groaned. 

“Come with me, Mr. Malfoy.” He snarled. “To my office.” He glanced to the Mudblood then. “I trust with your...expertise you can do the counter-curse?” 

Under different circumstances he might have snickered at Snape’s comment. 

In the distance he heard the Mudblood chant “ _Finite!”_ He briefly glanced behind him and took silent note of Potter’s stirring form.

Once inside his office Snape pointed to the chair. “Sit.” He hissed. 

Draco miserably plopped down into the chair. It wasn’t fair! He hadn’t told Potter’s secret and he still made a fool of him! Tears threatened to form in his eyes as he sat there.

He stared at the desk, refusing to allow the other man to see them. After all, even though he was his Godfather who might have tried to kill Potter and attempting to steal some Stone from the school. He wanted to ask but he didn’t know how. Especially since he suspected Snape was the one that told his father about hanging with Potter to begin with.

“Draco Malfoy. What makes you think it is _acceptable_ to attack another student in front of everyone?” He questioned, though he was surprised by the lack of venom in his tone.

“He was insulting my family and our way of life.” He hated how whiny it sounded.

“Being raised by Sirius Black,” he spat the name out. “I am not surprised. He was good friends with Potter’s father, James. It was him, Sirius, Lupin, and Pettigrew. They were all Gryffindors. Always thinking they were better than everyone else, not caring about the consequences of their words and actions.” He sneered. “How Potter managed to get placed in Slytherin I do not know.” 

Draco nodded slightly as he rubbed his eyes that stung with tears despite his effort to suppress them.

“That being said, Draco. It is imperative that you keep your wits about you, regardless of how tempting it might be to put him in his proper place.” It wasn’t entirely unkindly.

“Yes sir.” Draco said as he straightened up in an attempt to regain composure. 

“Take comfort in the fact that Longbottom and his _group_ of rule evading Gryffindors have been suffering after losing 150 points for their House.” He almost appeared to be smiling. “My suggestion is to keep your distance from Potter and focus on those who share the proper ideals. Perhaps your father doesn’t need to know of your own rule breaking then?” He loft a brow at him.

Draco’s eyes widened slightly in shock. _A bribe? Really? He must hate Potter. Was it because of his family? Why?_ His head was spinning. _What choice do I have?_ He thought then. _If father found out…_ He inwardly shuddered. 

“Yes sir.” He spoke stiffly, taking care to suppress his emotions. 

“Good. Now I will have to give you an additional detention for your abysmal display but no further points will be taken.” He stated. “That being said; detention will take place tonight in the charms classroom at 7 P.M. sharp. Make sure you have your wand.” He ambiguously stated. “You are dismissed.”

“Yessir.” He responded automatically despite the slew of questions on his mind.

Slightly bewildered, Draco got up from his seat and left Snape’s office more confused than ever. He went over the details in his head. Without Potter he was his caring Godfather again with the firm yet caring discipline. It almost caused him to question Potter’s claims entirely. Yet, he knew better. The bribe was clear as day. He had to stay away from Potter. It shouldn’t be too hard considering their earlier interactions.

The rest of his classes crept by slowly. Other than Pansy questioning him about his meeting with Snape, no one spoke to him other than to further jeer at him. _I hope Longbottom and his git friends are suffering as much as Snape said_. He thought bitterly.

He entered the Charms classroom on time but Snape was not there yet. _Where is he?_

He sat down at one of the desks and patiently waited for the Head of Slytherin. A half hour passed when Snape entered the room looking quite cross. 

Draco was curious but knew better than to ask.

“Pardon the hold up. Some _business_ that needed to be attended to took longer than expected.” Snape offered as an explanation.

 _I wonder what business that could be?_ He wondered.

“Now. Stand up and hold your wand out. I am going to teach you a spell you would normally learn your second year.” He instructed.

Draco blinked at him a moment, finding it to be rather odd, especially as time spent in detention.

Snape paid no mind to his reaction. “The Disarming Charm, Expelliarmus, is a useful spell that causes an object, often a wand, to be removed from the recipient’s hand.” Snape began. “I would rather teach you hexes but I’m afraid my hands are tied at the moment. You are more likely to get into more trouble if you use them. This will at least be a line of defense against your classmates who wish to harm you.”

Draco gaped at him in a rather unbecoming manner. 

Snape’s lips curled into what almost looked like a smile. “Do close your mouth, Draco. You will catch flies.” He remarked.

Draco abruptly shut his mouth, though his icy grey eyes were still wide like saucers. 

“Now. You must position yourself as such.” He straightened his posture and raised his wand up.

Draco imitated him with careful precision.

Without much warning, Snape exclaimed, “ _Expelliarmus_!”

Draco’s wand flew from his hand and landed on the floor some distance from him. For a moment he was in awe of it and then eager to perfect it. Especially if it meant before anyone else in his year. He _was_ special after all.

“You try.” Snape instructed.

Draco fetched his wand and returned to the stance Snape taught him. “ _Expelliarmus_!” 

Snape’s wand moved in his hand but it was not removed from his hand. 

“Again.”

He tried again. It was a bit more forceful but did not disarm the Professor.

“Concentrate harder.” Snape advised. “Again!”

Draco put all concentration into the spell. “ _Expelliarmus_!” He cried out. 

This time his wand flew out of Snape’s hand and landed a distance from him. Inwardly he was full of glee but he only smugly smirked at the Professor. He himself seemed to be holding back his own smile.

“Good. With time you will be able to knock other objects out of your opponent's hands. For now, let’s focus on perfecting disarming the wand.”

He would not let Draco leave until it was perfect. By the end he was exhausted but proud of his achievement.

“Remember what we spoke about.” Snape reminded him after dismissal.

“Yes sir.” Draco stated before departing.

When he reached the Slytherin common room, the chatter of his peers lowered to whispers and pointed glances. 

He scowled at them irritably and headed up to his dormitory. He may be able to disarm his classmates but it didn’t keep him from being an outcast, thanks to Potter. 

He felt eyes on him from across the room. He glanced over, noticing Potter occupying his own bed. _Remain calm._ He reminded himself for his own sake. Potter’s sent daggers in his direction. 

“Blood traitor.” He sneered back at him.

Potter was immediately at his bed, seething but didn’t attack. _Maybe the Mudblood gave him a lecture_. 

Draco glared back at him but managed to keep from attacking him.

“Would you two knock it off already? We don’t need any more points taken from our house.” Theo’s cool tone distracted both of them enough to cause them to turn toward him. 

“Aren’t you sick of being awarded detentions yet, Malfoy? This is unbecoming for a proper Pureblood such as yourself.” Blaise lectured him. “You are both acting as uncivilized as Gryffindors. Know your place.” 

Blaise grabbed a textbook and departed with Theo back to the common room.

Potter threw him another hateful glance and then went to bed. 

Draco found himself staring after him, tearing up a bit, wishing they could be friends like they used to be. Snape’s words rang in his mind and he felt an overwhelming sense of sadness wash over him. _I’m not going to lower myself to apologize anyway_. He told himself crossly. 

As soon as his head hit his pillow, silent tears fell, dampening it. For once, he didn’t care if he ruined the precious silk fabric.


	17. The snake in the grass.

After they were caught delivering Norbert to Charlie; Neville could not sleep. At first everything was going according to plan. They managed to get Norbert and his cage up to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Ten minutes after their arrival, they saw four broomsticks swoop down out of the darkness. Charlie’s friends were a cheery lot. They showed them the harness they’d rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. They all helped buckle Norbert safely into it.

They shook hands and thanked them for their help. They watched as Norbert was taken far away. Neville was quite relieved. Their world came crashing down when they spotted Filch and his cat at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Well, well, well,” he whispered, “we _are_ in trouble.”

McGonagall mercilessly took a total of a hundred and fifty points from the Gryffindors. It placed them last for the House Cup. _How will we get those points back?_ He thought miserably. It seemed like an impossible feat.

The morning after, Neville was tempted to pretend to be sick and stay in bed. There was no way he could face what had been done. 

He wondered if they would have gotten away with it if Malfoy wasn’t determined to get them into trouble. _Or maybe if Harry had lent him his invisibility cloak._ He supposed he couldn’t entirely blame him for not trusting him with it. They could have still gotten caught and lost it. He wasn’t sure _where_ Harry had gotten it but it seemed like a priceless item.

He shook himself out of it. _No. We are the ones who sneaked out. It doesn’t matter who told or who wouldn’t help. We did this_.

He sighed and forced himself to get ready for classes. He grabbed the books he would need and exited the dormitory. He kept his head down as he reached the crowd of students standing in front of the giant hourglass that recorded the house points.

“...has to be a mistake!”

“What is wrong with it?”

“Maybe it’s broken?”

“How could we have lost 150 points overnight?”

Neville inwardly groaned and kept walking. By lunch everyone had heard about the famous Neville Longbottom losing all of the points with a couple other stupid first years. He was not too popular before because many still believed it to be some sort of farce that he beat You-Know-Who when he was a baby.

Now he was downright hated by not just those in his house but Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff as well. They were longing to see Slytherin lose the house cup. Insults rang out into the corridors from fellow classmates. Some of them tripped him or shoved his head down the toilet. The worst was when someone threw a dungbomb at him while yelling out, “Longbottom’s got a dirty bottom!” 

No one dared to throw hexes at him like he saw Malfoy at the receiving end of but he was still quite miserable. The Slytherins themselves snickered and clapped their hands, calling out, “Thanks! We owe you one!”

Ron stood by him with fierce loyalty he wasn’t expecting. “It will blow over. Fred and George have lost loads of points and people still like them.” He reassured him.

"Not one hundred and fifty points in one go, though, have they?” Neville asked miserably.

“Well—no.” Ron admitted.

Hermione and Seamus suffered too. They were lesser known so it was not as severe but they had their share of jeers sent their way. Otherwise, no one would speak to them. Hermione threw herself into her schoolwork and shrank away from answering questions in class. Seamus hid in the back and kept his head down in silence. They kept their distance from Neville as well. 

Neville, when he wasn’t being attacked, studied hard. _I have to pass my classes or Nan will kill me._ He worked late into the night trying to remember complicated potions, learn charms and spells by heart, memorize the dates of magical discoveries and golden rebellions.

They were sitting at lunch in silence when they heard Malfoy and Potter shouting at the Slytherin table. By the time he turned around, Malfoy had his wand out and Potter was on the ground. They had no idea what it was about but it apparently ascended into chaos.

Neville tried to catch up with Potter later but he told him to “Sod off.”

Neville feared Nan’s wrath if she found out what happened so he made up an excuse to stay over for Easter holiday. Most everyone else went home, including Ron, Hermione, and Seamus. To his relief, so did Potter and Malfoy. He was happy not to have to endear Potter taunting him. It turned out to be a peaceful, quiet holiday that he had desperately needed.

It was the day before the holiday ended when he heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As he drew closer, he heard Quirrell’s voice.

“No—-no—-not again, please—-”. 

It sounded like someone was threatening him. Neville moved in closer.

“All right—all right—-” he heard Quirrell sob.

A few moments later Quirrell hurried out of the classroom while straightening his turban. His face was scrunched up like he was ready to cry again. He strode out of sight, luckily not noticing that Neville was standing there. He waited until Quirrell’s footsteps had disappeared, and then peered into the classroom. It was empty, but a door stood ajar at the other end. He was tempted to explore but he knew better than that.

He was certain that Snape had been there threatening Quirrell. Based on what he just heard, Quirrell had given in at last. 

Once everyone returned, Neville met up with Seamus and Hermione in the library. She was busy quizzing Seamus on Astronomy. Neville caught them up with what he had heard.

“That means Snape has done it!” Seamus exclaimed. “Quirrell’s sure to have told him how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell!”

“There’s still fluffy, though.” Said Hermione.

“Maybe Snape got past him without asking Hagrid.” Neville mused. “I bet there’s a book somewhere on how to get past a giant three-headed dog.”

There was a brief pause before Seamus turned to him with a fearful gaze. “What now?”

“We go to Dumbledore. We have to go to an adult now. We should have done that ages ago. We will only get in more trouble if we tried anything now.” Hermione interjected.

“We haven’t any proof. There is no way Quirrell will back us up and it’d be far too easy for Snape to cover his tracks. It’s no secret that Snape and I don’t get on. It is our word verses his and they will certainly not believe us over him.” Neville stated. “Besides, we aren’t supposed to know about Fluffy or the Stone. That will take a lot of explaining.”

Hermione nodded her head gravely. 

Seamus grunted, “Come on! Are you the boy who lived or not? If we just keep poking—”

“I am a nobody, Seamus.” Neville said in a resolved tone. “We’ve done enough poking around.”

Neville pulled out a map of Jupiter toward him and started to learn the names of its moons. Seamus sent him a glare and abruptly left the library without another word.

Neville slumped his shoulders, dejected. 

Hermione put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Neville, he’ll come around.

“At least none of us have been attacked by Snape.” He drearily stated.

Hermione threw him a troubled look but said nothing more about it.

It didn’t help that it had become sweltering hot outside. Hermione, Ron, and Neville sat by the lake as they feverishly tried to study for their final exams. Much to Neville and Ron’s amusement, and Hermione’s dismay, they were continuously distracted by the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan’s antics. One day they were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, who was basking in the warm shallows.

Seamus steered clear of everyone. Neville saw him every now and again glancing over his shoulder, paranoid. His skin had paled enough that the dark circles under his eyes looked like bruises. Neville was worried about him but had no idea how to help him. No one had been attacked and the students were content with ignoring them entirely.

A week and a half before their exams, a surging pain awoke Neville from his slumber. He was panting and sweating profusely. The agony in his forehead burned like it was on fire. He held onto it for several moments and then the pain dissipated as quickly as it came. The onset was just as sudden as it had been in the beginning of the year but this time it was far more intense. It became a nightly occurrence.

Neville stood by the where Fluffy was and listened at the door. He listened to the terrifying growling noise from behind it. Despite what happened in the bathroom during the Easter holiday, everything remained at a standstill.

He wanted to tell Hermione but she was quite stressed about the exams. He couldn’t tell Ron, and Seamus was still in hiding. 

He sat by a tree with his books laid out in front of him, unable to concentrate.

“ _You seem troubled.”_ Came a nearby hiss.

Neville turned his head and saw a long, black and gold checkered snake slithering beside him. 

“Troubling times.” He said sadly.

_"Yes. Even though the weather is perfect; nature has been shifting. Can you feel the darkness nestling in the dirt and pulsing through the trees?”_

“Sort of.” He tentatively touched his scar. 

_“Hmm.”_ The snake slithered into his lap, curled up his torso, and onto his neck to get a better look.

_“Curious Indeed.”_

“No idea what it means and I haven’t anyone to tell,” He paused, “except you of course.”

“ _Survival is instinct. Always go with it.”_

The snake slithered down his torso and back onto the grass.

“ _Ah, that’s better. Humans are too hot to touch. I like the cool grass.”_

“Sorry about that.” Neville said with an apologetic smile.

He took comfort in the fact that he was able to get some of his troubles off his chest, even if only to a snake.

He had always been able to talk to snakes. The one time he mentioned it to Gran she had a blotchy flush of red on her cheeks and hurriedly said, “Don’t be ridiculous, Neville. No one can talk snakes!” That was the last time he mentioned it to anyone.

“ _See you around, human.”_ The snake started to slither away. 

“Hey, which kind of snake are you?” He asked as an afterthought.

“ _An Adder. I like lazy days but will poison my victims if they become bothersome.”_

If snakes could smirk Neville bet that he would be.

“I’m Neville. I am clumsy but love Herbology. I’m going to have my own greenhouse someday. I hope you will come visit sometime.” Neville returned with a grin.

It almost looked like the snake was nodding his head.

“ _I just might.”_ He hissed and then headed off into the distance.

Neville found himself smiling, feeling quite a bit lighter. It wasn’t until the following morning, after his burning scar woke him again, that the snake’s words echoed in his mind.

_Can you feel the darkness nestling in the dirt and pulsing through the trees?_

Neville rubbed his forehead tentatively, disturbed by his ominous words. After that night his scar ceased from hurting again. He quickly busied himself with prepping for the following week’s exams. He banished the snake’s ominous words and burning scar to the back of his mind.


	18. The monstrous Forbidden Forest.

Draco found that the Disarming Charm worked quite well against those who _dared_ to further persecute him. His classmates were not expecting such an advanced spell from a First Year. Those from the other Houses appeared in awe of him. Most Importantly, his fellow Slytherins were impressed and as a result forgave his blunder. 

Crabbe and Goyle followed him about, gladly terrorizing any of the rare few who dared to try anything. People had to realize that while he got their precious Longbottom in trouble; if he hadn’t broken the rules they wouldn’t be in the current predicament. 

It felt good to be on top again. Crabbe and Goyle’s lack of conversational skills were made up for with obedience and loyalty. They were not without merit. It even allowed him to remind his peers the power of his father if he so chose to utilize it. Little did they know that he wasn’t about to further humiliate himself and wind up in worse trouble than the night they were caught.

By the time the holiday, things were back to normal for the most part. Potter was still avoiding him, which was just fine. _I don’t need him._ He told himself. 

He found himself wishing he had come up with an excuse to stay at school for Easter holiday. Facing his father was not something he was looking forward to even if he did not associate with Harry anymore. His father always found something to fault him with. 

Their gifts did usually prove to be worth the trip even if his mother had to sneak any sweets so that his father would not know. He lectured them both on the importance of remaining fit and not fall into the monstrosity of obesity. 

“Malfoys do not get fat.” He would hiss at them venomously.

His mother would try to reason that treats on occasion would not hurt. She was, after all, the one who sent him daily little treats. Sometimes he would cave and eat them but most of the time he gave them to Crabbe or Goyle, too guilt ridden to enjoy them. She learned not to voice her opinion to him the hard way.

It wasn’t long after his arrival that his father took him aside. Inevitable, he supposed. His mother tried to follow them into his father’s study but he ushered her away like a common House-elf. Draco set his jaw angrily but held his tongue. He knew better than that.

Once inside, father shut the door. He glided toward his desk and spun back upon Draco, with an unpleasant sneer.

“I heard this preposterous tale about Neville Longbottom tricking you into believing that hulking oaf gamekeeper harbored a dragon. Then, in your attempt to catch them to catch them in the act, you were also caught. This resulted in you losing twenty-five points from Slytherin, the respect of your peers and worst of all brought shame upon our very namesake.” His icy grey eyes fixated on Draco’s ashen face. “ _Do_ explain where this ridiculous rumour came from.”

Draco gaped at him for several moments and then forced a sneer. “The part about me getting caught were lies. His fan club would make up anything in an attempt to make Longbottom less of an excuse to the wizarding world.”

The first thing he heard was the snap of his nose as he fell to the ground. The warmth of the blood pooled down his face and stained his clothes. He forced back tears as he sat there, stunned, his nose throbbing in agony. He pressed his index finger and thumb against the bridge of his nose as he had done before to stop it from bleeding. It was a horribly Muggle thing to do but his father’s delay of healing him always suggested he wanted to further humiliate him by using barbaric Muggle methods of punishment.

“Don’t lie to me, Draco.” He hissed angrily.

Draco hung his head with pity and shame. He had been hoping his father would never find out. 

“I _was_ caught but Longbottom did help the oaf free a dragon. I saw it with my own two eyes!” He exclaimed, absurdly hoping his father would believe him and act against the oaf instead.

His father grasped hold of his robes and pulled him to his feet, bringing him close to his face as they lifted from the ground. “Listen here, _Draco_. I won’t allow our name to be dragged through the mud over extravagant stories that lack any proof. At least _try_ to be cunning and succeed at your attempts.” He spat in his face as he spoke. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir.” Draco was barely able to keep his voice steady.

He gently dropped him back to his feet. “Good. Now that we have that cleared up, what about Harry Potter?” 

Draco hesitated. He didn’t want to betray Harry even now but he knew better than to attempt to lie to his father again. He wanted to tell him about the charm Professor Snape taught him but feared it would only remind him of his blunder.

“Harry Potter is being raised by Sirius Black, sir. He is his Godfather.” He felt a pang of guilt, even if it was only a tiny fragment of the story.

His father studied him for a long moment, his jaw tensing. “Interesting.” He said finally. “Sirius Black is the son of Orion and Walbura Black and the brother of Regulas Black. The Black family are a highly esteemed family in the Wizarding world, linked to prestige. Your mother descends from such a family name. The Black family has always held blood purity as priority just as we do. We are the _special ones_ , Draco. Remember that.” He took one look at Draco’s bloodied outfit and wrinkled his nose in disgust. 

“ _Scourgify_.” Draco’s attire and face was cleaned of blood without actually healing his nose.

“They were all sorted into Slytherin except for Sirius Black. He does not _believe_ in what is important. He sympathizes with them. He wrongfully believes that Mudbloods, and Muggles are equal with us.” His nose scrunched up with contempt. “We cannot consort with _those_ types of people. Their words are poisonous and their reputations are sure to tarnish those around them.”

Draco nodded his head obediently. He understood the hatred for Sirius, for upholding such views. Harry, on the other hand, could be retaught proper values. He was about to say as such but his father continued on.

“Your Aunt Bellatrix was the one who tortured Harry Potter’s family, and thus the reason she rots in Azkaban as we speak. His parents were equally as much blood traitors as Sirius himself. How the Potter boy was ever sorted into Slytherin is beyond me. His father, James, a Pureblood, married a Mudblood, forever tainting their blood. It’s a disgrace he walks the halls of Hogwarts, let alone sort into our _sacred_ house!” He hissed out.

His father was repeating himself now but he dared not say anything. His father must see it as a reminder for him. He had to be reminded of what Harry was and he poison his ideals brought. It was curious to Draco how he was sorted into Slytherin giving the Mudblood status of his mother and his father’s blood traitor views. 

What infuriated him was the notion that Sirius Black was continuing with the poisonous views, damning Harry to believe the same. It wasn’t his fault, though. Draco was certain that it was something he could fix. He could get him to renounce what he was taught. He was sure of it.

“It’s not Potter’s fault, sir. He can be retaught the _right ways._ ” Draco spoke up finally. 

Pools of black pulled across his eyes like drapes. His head pounded like a heavy-lidded drum. He blinked rapidly, realizing he was once again on the floor. He stared up at his father with a wide, fearful gaze, whose nostrils flared with fury. A sharp pain etched into Draco’s ribs as his father’s foot met it. He curled into a fetal position, biting down on his lip to keep noise from escaping. He tried to think of the treacle his mother would sneak to him as his father kicked him a second and third time before ceasing. 

“His views can be changed but his blood cannot. Don’t you ever forget that.” His father spat at him. 

He called in Dobby, their house-elf. The tiny servant _creature_ had large bat-like ears and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls. It wore a ratty thing made of an old pillowcase with the rips for arm and leg holes.

“Yes, Master?” Its high-pitched voice was irritably squeaked.

“Fetch Lady Malfoy and tell her to bring potions to heal broken bones, and bruises. Instruct her not to heal the bruises on his stomach. They must serve as reminders...for the future.” 

“Yes, Master.” It squeaked, sparing Draco an unwelcome look of sympathy. He glared at it, appalled by its audacity. 

His father strode out of the room without taking further notice of the creature servant. It quickly followed behind him out the door. 

Too afraid to move; Draco remained in a fetal position on the floor. His mother came in a flurry of coos and worry. He reassured her the best he could. It was no big deal, really. She healed his bones and bruises, sans the ones on his stomach as requested. She knew better than to disobey.

His mother seemed to put extra treacle tarts with his gifts his year, as though it would make up for the ache of his bones and the glaring reminders of his failures imprinted on his chest and belly. He put on a show regardless, not wanting his father to see the fear that clenched in his chest when he entered the room. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

When he returned to Hogwarts after break ended, he threw himself into his studies, determined to beat the Mudblood’s marks. Second place would come with dire consequences. 

He avoided Harry at all costs and allowed Crabbe and Goyle to follow him around like dark, looming shadows. They did laugh at all of his insults, even though he suspected they didn’t get the majority of them. They _were_ good to have when someone dared to attempt to cause trouble. He didn’t have to get his hands dirty.

It wasn’t the same but it would have to do. _What choice do I have_? The bruises were a constant reminder of the cost of his disobedience. There were eyes and ears everywhere out for him.

“Aren’t you two ever going to make up?” Pansy irritatingly brought up a week before exams.

“No.” He grumped, tensing up immediately.

“Why not? Harry is always alone and you can only be so amused by those two.” She narrowed her gaze at the duo.

“Leave it alone, Pansy.” He growled.

Exasperated, she sighed dramatically. “Boys. Salazar.” 

The owls flew into the Great Room and he watched them for a long moment. His owl showed up beside him and he petted her affectionately in greeting.

“Good Ulysses.” He cooed at him quietly as he gave him a treat. 

Finally, he took the package and he flew back out the window.

He opened up the parchment to read it:

_Your detention will take place at eleven o’clock tonight. Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall._

_Professor McGonagall_

With everything that was going on he nearly forgot about the abominable thing. He crumpled up the note and tossed it on the floor, laughing as he kicked a House-elf that came to pick it up. Crabbe and Goyle snickered and jeered at it. Pansy had long since left to cram for their finals.

“Prat.” A voice rang through from down the table. 

Draco glanced over. _Potter._ He narrowed his gaze at him. After all, this was his fault. Everything would be fine if his blood wasn’t wrong and he hadn’t been hanging with bloody Gryffindors.

“Blood traitor.” He returned.

Potter sprang to his feet and marched over, fists at his side.

Draco perked a brow but made no movement. There was a hush in the Great Hall.

“Where do you get off calling me that?” He hissed through his teeth.

“Do you really want me to answer that for everyone to hear, Potter?” He jeered at him.

“Your full of dung and everyone knows it, Malfoy. Not a single person likes you as a person because there isn’t a redeemable quality about you. It’s only your money they care about.” He snapped.

Draco seethed. _How dare he? I am plenty liked. Besides, father says people are only as good as what they’re useful for. People who claim to be a real friend will get disappointed and leave when the other is not of use to them._ He glared at Potter. “Am I?” He lowered his voice so it would not be overheard. “Well at least my mum isn’t a Mudblood.”

Crabbe and Goyle stood on either side of him as Harry pulled out his wand, huffing and puffing like he’d just ran a race.

“You’re lucky your bodyguards are about.” Hatred was laced in his every word.

“Better go to class. Don’t want to fail the semester and prove yourself a disgraceful Squib.” He jeered at him.

A professor was eyeing the table close enough that Harry left in a huff.

Despite his smug smile, he felt a pang of unexplained agony on the core of his belly.

At eleven o’clock that night he headed to the entrance hall for the detention he did not deserve. Longbottom, the Mudblood, and that prat Finnigan was already there. Malfoy glared of the lot of them.

“Follow me.” Filch cut through the silence.

He lit a lamp and led them outside. “I bet you’ll think twice about breaking a school rule.” he said, leering at them. “Oh yes...hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me...it’s just a pity they let the old punishments die. They’d hang your wrists from the ceiling a few days. I still have the chains in my office if they’re ever needed.” He had a terrible smile on his face. “Right, off we go, and don’t think of running off, now it will be worse for you if you do.”

Inwardly, Draco gulped, his sneer faltering the slightest bit.

They marched off across the dark grounds. Draco was starting to wonder what their horrible punishment would be.

The moon was bright, but the clouds scudding across it kept throwing them into darkness.

As they came up to the oaf’s so-called house, he frowned.

“Is that you, Filch?” His familiar voice called out into the darkness.

He glanced at the other three students, who had been delightfully quiet the whole walk. They were clearly relieved by the presence of the oaf.

“You think you’re going to be enjoying yourselves with that oaf? Well think again. It’s into the forest you’re going and I’m much mistaken if you come back in one piece.” Filch jeered.

Outraged, Draco stopped dead in his tracks. “The forest? We can’t go in there. There’s all sorts of things in there. Werewolves, I heard.” He said tentatively.

“That’s your problem, isn’t it?” Filch gleefully replied. “Should have thought of that before you got in trouble.” He let out an unpleasant hiss of a laugh. “I’ll be back at dawn to pick up what’s left of them.” He turned and headed back.

“Alrigh’ there, Neville? Hermione, Seamus?” The oaf questioned. 

Draco suppressed an eye roll and then gazed out into the forest. “I’m not going out there.” He was ashamed of the panic in his voice.

“Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts.” The oaf fiercely stated. “Yeh’ve come wrong an’ now yeh’ve got ter pay for it.”

“But this is servant stuff! If my father knew I was doing this he’d—-” 

“—tell yet that’s how it is at Hogwarts. If you’d rather tell him you were expelled, be my guest. Better get back ter the castle an’ pack!”

Draco didn’t move. He knew he was right. Besides, a complaint like this would only get him a fresh bruise. He glared at the oaf, seething for a moment and then dropped his gaze. He was certain the Gryffindors were sending him infuriatingly smug looks.

“Right then. Now listen carefully ‘cause it’s dangerous what we’re gonna do tonight and I don’ want no one takin’ risks. Follow me over here a moment.”

He led them to the edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they gazed into the forest.

“Look there.” the oaf pointed out something on the ground. It was shimmering silver on the ground. “That’s unicorn blood. There’s a unicorn in there bin hurt bad by summat. This is the second time this week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We’re gonna try an’ find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery.”

Draco’s draw dropped in shock. “And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?” He hated how fearful he sounded.

“There’s nothin’ that lives in the forest that’ll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang.” The oaf was far from reassuring. “An’ keep ter the path. Right, now, we are going to split in two groups an’ follow in diff’rent directions. There’s blood all over the place. It must’ve bin staggerin’ around since last night at least.”

As the oaf seemed to talk forever, Draco tried to think of the best way to go about this. He didn’t want to seem afraid but he also didn’t want to die out there. The endangerment alone was abysmal. His father wouldn’t truly approve of his only heir being put in danger like this, would he?

“I want fang.” He found himself saying.

“Alright but he’s a right coward, that one.” The oaf pointed out. 

_Just my luck._ Draco thought bitterly.

“Hermione and Seamus yer wit’ me one way an’ Neville you go with Malfoy and Fang the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we’ll send up green sparks, right? Get your wands out an’ practice now—that’s it. If anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks an’ we'll all come find yeh. Be careful. OK, let’s go.”

The forest was black and silent. At the fork in the road Hagrid led Finnigan and the Mudblood to the left while he, Longbottom, and Fang to the right.

Draco sent a glare toward Longbottom but he was staring at the ground, probably trying not to fall on his clumsy behind. He sneered at that. 

As they headed deeper into the woods, he saw more of the glimmering silver reflecting off the moon in the trees. It was eerie. He glanced over at Longbottom; he was as pale as a ghost. An idea formed in his head. He stopped suddenly, with wide eyes, gaping mouth and feigned fear. 

“What was that?” He whispered harshly into the silence of the night.

It must have given Longbottom quite a fright because he almost immediately tripped over his feet and fell down. Draco let out a roaring laugh at the sight. As Fang started to howl and whine, Draco bent over slightly, barely able to contain himself.

The great big lump scrambled to his feet with curled up fists. “Lay off, Malfoy. You aren’t so brave.” He growled. “I’ll take the dog.” He dared to imitate him. 

His laughter stopped abruptly and went toe to toe with him. “I’m not scared, Longbottom, unlike you. How you defeated You-Know-Who as an infant I’ll never know. But if you think I won’t do what it takes to survive—”

That time he really did hear something. “Did you hear that?” He couldn’t quite hide the fear from his voice. 

Longbottom rolled his eyes. “Very funny, Malfoy. Not going to trick me again.” 

“Shut up you git.” Draco hissed.

Something slithering over dead leaves got Longbottom’s attention this time. It sounded like a cloak trailing along the ground. They stayed still, but the dumb dog started howling like mad and they couldn’t hear the figure anymore.

“Shut up, mutt!” Draco growled at the cowardly beast.

He let out a final whine and then went quiet.

“You didn’t have to be so mean to him.” Longbottom grunted. 

“Well I don’t fancy him getting us killed.” Draco retorted crossly. 

They remained still another moment to see if they could hear anything. Draco’s hand clutched the wand tightly, ready to send off red flares at any given moment.

When it became apparent that nothing was there; they set off deep into the heart of the forest. They walked for nearly half an hour, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick.

“The blood looks thicker.” Neville whispered into the darkness.

Draco glanced around them. There were splashed on the roots of a tree, as though the creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. He could see a clearing ahead through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.

They both saw something bright and gleaming on the ground. They inched closer. It was the unicorn. It appeared to already be dead. Draco kept his expression stoic despite the sharp pang of sadness weigh down his chest.

Its long, slender legs stuck out at weird angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves. For reasons unknown, Longbottom took a step forward. He abruptly froze when he heard the slithering sound again nearby. 

Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling out of the ground like a stalking beast. Draco, Longbottom, and the cowardly mutt stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal’s side, and began to drink its blood. 

Longbottom stumbled back into Draco, interrupting the scream that was crawling swiftly up his throat. They both continued to stagger backwards as Longbottom rammed into him as though he were struck blind. Fang let out a battle cry and started barking like mad at it and swiftly backed up in terror.

The hooded figure raised its head, unicorn blood dribbled down its front. It stared directly at Longbottom. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward Longbottom. _Maybe it will give me time to escape._ He thought frantically.

Draco dropped to the ground as Longbottom fell to his knees with an agonizing scream. Draco shakily held out his wand but forgot how to cast the red flare from his wand in his panic. He heard hooves behind them, galloping, and then spotted something jump over the both of them and charged at the figure.

Draco didn’t remember when he started to scream but he only stopped when a hand touched his shoulder and the noise seemed to choke up into his throat. 

“Are you two OK?” A voice spoke over his pounding heart.

When he looked up, the figure was gone and standing over him appeared to be both a man and a horse. To the waist, it was a man with white-blond hair, but below that was that of a palomino horse’s body. Draco stared at him with wide eyes, his mouth gaped open in shock.

It took his hand off of Draco’s shoulder and offered a hand that he did not take.

“What—are—-you?” He croaked out.

It held a handout to Longbottom instead as it spoke. “I am a centaur.” It stated, its striking blue eyes glanced between them as Neville took its hand, bewildered. “Are you all right?”

Draco pulled himself up, not one to allow a creature to touch him.

“What was that?” Neville croaked out.

The centaur didn’t answer. It appeared to be gaping at Longbottom’s scar like a star struck git. 

“You are Neville Longbottom.” he said, ignoring Draco entirely by this point. “You had better get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe at this time—especially for you.” His gaze flickered to Draco now. “Can you both ride? It will be quicker this way.

“My name is Firenze,” he added, as he lowered himself on his front legs so that Draco and Neville could climb on his back.

Draco was tempted to refuse but he wanted out of the forest as quickly as possible. If the centaur was the way out then so be it.

Just as they were about to head off, they heard galloping from the other side of the clearing. Two more centaurs came bursting through the trees, their flanks heaving and sweating.

“Firenze!” A black hair and bodied centaur thundered. “What are you doing? You have two humans on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?”

Draco smirked despite himself. Creatures were beneath them, but to see one so indignant like they were equals was rather amusing. 

“Do you realize who this is?” Firenze cut in. “The dark-haired boy is Neville Longbottom. The quicker he and this _other_ child leaves the forest, the better.”

His face fell. _Other child? I’m the special one! Longbottom defeating You-Know-Who was a fluke!_ Fury filled him at this mistake. He was about to say as such when the other beast spoke again.

“What have you been telling him?” It growled out. “Remember, Firenze, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movement of the planets?”

The third beast finally spoke. “I’m sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best.” It pawed at the ground nervously. It had red hair like Weasel, a beard with a gleaming chestnut horse body and a long reddish tail. 

The angry one kicked his legs back in anger. “For the best! Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our forest!”

Firenze kicked its legs back then and Draco screamed and held on tightly when he nearly fell off. 

“Did you not see the unicorn?” Firenze bellowed. “Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets—-”

Draco spaced out a moment, his mind racing. _What was going on?_ _What was happening out here that had the creatures all in a tizzy?_

He jolted back as they galloped through the forest at top speed. Terrified, he held onto it for dear life.

“Why was that centaur so angry?” He overheard Longbottom ask. “What did you save us from anyway?” 

It slowed to a walk but infuriatingly did not answer. They made their way through the trees in silence for what seemed like forever. When they passed through a particularly dense patch of trees, Firenze stopped.

“Neville Longbottom, you know what unicorn blood is used for?”

 _Again, I am ignored_. Draco gritted his teeth angrily.

“No…” Neville was blatantly oblivious.

“We’ve only used the horn and tail in Potions.” Draco spoke up.

It nodded to Draco approvingly, and he sent a rather smug look towards Longbottom.

“That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn. Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips.”

Draco stared, transfixed by the back of Firenze’s head as it shone silver in the moonlight.

“Who’d be so desperate?” Longbottom mused out loud. “If you’re going to be cursed forever, death’s better, isn’t it?”

 _Who’d be so desperate and pathetic Indeed._ Draco thought as he leaned in closer toward the conversation. 

Irritatingly enough, the stupid creature leaned in and whispered to Longbottom quietly. He strained his ears but could not make out what they were saying. From the look on the fat lump’s face it was not anything good.

Somehow, he didn’t hear the sound of the Mudblood, the oaf and Finnigan rustling through the woods. 

“Neville! Are you alright?” Hagrid blatantly ignored him, of course. 

Draco scowled, agitated by the whole ordeal, slid off the thing’s back and straightened himself up.

“I’m fine.” Longbottom was saying.

“So am I in case you were wondering. My father _will_ hear of this.” He spoke sharply.

“You shouldn’t mess with the alignments. Mars is especially bright tonight.” The mad thing responded.

“Clearly we were nearly killed by some monster because this oaf took us in the dark woods in the middle of the night!” He said indignantly.

“The forest has eyes and ears. Be careful in what company you spill the secrets of these vast woods.” It sounded like a warning or a threat.

Draco gulped, falling silent.

Neville didn’t seem to be paying attention to them at all. “The unicorn is dead, Hagrid. It’s in the clearing back there.”

“This is where I leave you,” Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. “You are safe now.” 

It once again forgot about him as it added, “Good luck, Neville Longbottom. The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times.”

It turned without another word and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving them behind.

He was pleased to see that Finnigan looked pale and clammy. The Mudblood and Longbottom fared no better. They stood in eerie silence as they waited.

When the oaf returned, he led the four of them out of the forest to meet up with Filch, who took them back to the Castle. As soon as they arrived, Draco wordlessly departed from the other three and headed back to the Slytherin corridor.

Once inside the common room he collapsed on the couch out of exhaustion. He was trembling, and his skin was ghost white and clammy. He gasped as weight shifted on the couch. He didn’t realize he was staring absently into the fire until he felt movement beside him.

“Malfoy?” He turned his head; his icy grey eyes were wide with terror.

He forgot how to answer even as his eyes narrowed in annoyance at the presence of Harry. He appeared aggravatingly aghast by his appearance.

“Draco.” He said in a firmer tone.

 _Had he been speaking_? He wondered. He felt like he was in a tunnel and the rest of the world was cut off from him.

“Draco _!_ ” He jerked again.

“Potter.” He managed to spit out through the fog.

“Are you alright?” He was obviously ignoring Draco’s tone of voice.

“Yes, Potter, fine.” He snapped. 

He narrowed his eyes at Draco. “You’re full of rubbish.” He snarled.

“Hardly.” He coldly replied as he finally started to tug out of his dissociation just a bit.

“Yes, you are!” He stood to his feet and blocked the front of the fireplace.

“One moment you’re chummy and the next you’re haughty and cruel. You’ve been avoiding me because I won’t help you terrorize others. Maybe I’ve got my own rubbish to deal with! If you’d take your head out of your arsehole for a few moments you’d see that!” He ranted; his face was flushed the colour of the flames behind him. For a few moments he wondered if he was the fire. _Is this real?_ Maybe if it’s not he could speak to him without fearing the wrath of his father. He glanced around. No one was around anyway so he was safe for the moment.

“You think you’re so much better than me, Potter?” He croaked out after a few moments. “You think you’re suddenly better than everyone because of the boy who lived? You aren’t. You are worse if you think they’re the sort you want to associate with. Or maybe it is true. I could teach you the _right_ ways but I can’t fix your blood.” He lacked conviction as he spoke. Mostly he was just exhausted and scared after that night’s events.

Harry was rendered speechless for several moments. When Draco glanced up at his red, glowing face he could almost see the black hooded figure and the silver blood beneath. He glanced down, his eyes bugging out of his head.

He felt the couch shift next to him once again. “What happened out there?” He spoke softly. 

Despite what he had just said, he broke down and quickly started to share everything that occurred in the forest, shivering despite the lack of chill in his bones.

Once he finished, Harry was silent for several moments.

“Something big is happening. Soon. It’s why I been hanging with Neville and his rejects. There is something bad going on and it’s likely coming to a head soon.”

This got Draco’s attention. “What are you on about?” He stared at Harry's dark expression, for the first time fully taking in the heaviness in his eyes. 

“Have you heard of the Philosopher’s Stone?” 

Draco paused and shook his head. He remembered Longbottom and them talking about some stone but he hadn’t a clue what it meant.

“The Philosopher's Stone is what is hidden under the paw of the three headed dog. It grants immortality and turns any metal into pure gold. We suspect Snape is after it for some reason. At first, we thought he was after something to expose Dumbledore for keeping something unsafe in the school but now it’s clear he wants the Stone for himself. He has been bullying Professor Quirrell into helping him. Only a matter of time before he cracks and they find a way.” Potter explains.

Draco blinked at him incredulously. “And you’re going to do what about it? Have you even thought about going to one of the professors?” 

Harry rubbed his face irritably with his hand. “No proof. No concrete motives other than our own speculation. Too many pieces are missing.” 

Draco considered it. He had a point but still, they were just kids and they had more important things to think of, like exams. “If the grownups are too stupid to figure this all out on their own then that’s their problem isn’t it? We have finals in a week and you’re worried about some bloody stone. Come off it, Potter. We’re kids, not heroes.” 

Harry laughed bitterly. “Exactly why I never told you. Don’t you see there is something to this? We are in danger, Draco. Can’t you see that?”

He sighed, defeated. “Only because the adults can’t seem to be able to handle things,” He shook his head slightly, “but you think you lot can? You, Longbottom, the Irish git, and the Mudblood?” He let out a derisive snort. “You really are in the wrong house.”

Harry was on his feet again with balled up fists. “Listen here, Malfoy. You want to cower in fear on this couch then go ahead but some of us actually care enough to do something. This is our home and we have to defend it. I’m only in the wrong house if it means you are a bunch of bloody cowards!” He turned and stalked out of the room. 

_Maybe I am a coward, but it’s better that than six feet under._ He told himself despite the fact that deep down he believed that Harry, even in his madness, had a point.

After a bit he trudged up to his dormitory to his bed. The night’s events weighed heavily on him.

Harry and he didn’t speak the week leading up to exams. Draco preoccupied himself with the end of term and beating out the Mudblood’s scores. 

It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell.

They had practical exams as well. In Professor Flitwick’s class they had to each make a pineapple tap-dance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox. Professor Snape had them brew Forgetfulness potion. He had to admit it was quite entertaining watching Longbottom and Weasel fret over trying to remember how to make it. The last exam was History of Magic. It was as immensely boring as the class itself.

He was both disappointed and relieved once over. It would be a week before they knew the results and he knew without his mind being preoccupied he would start to think about what Harry said about the Philosopher's Stone. He was scarcely around to lecture him about what a git he was being, either.

To keep his mind off of things he, Crabbe, and Goyle went about terrorizing other students and taking their things. They had a nice pile by the end of term. 

They were sitting in the grass by the lake when he saw Longbottom, The Mudblood, and Finnigan running off toward the oaf’s house. _Surprised Potter isn’t with them_. He thought bitterly. 

With a sense of forbidding and a nervous, pounding heartbeat, he realized he hadn’t seen Harry since the previous day.

After tentatively asking about under the rouse of him borrowing a quill; he quickly realized that no one else had either. A sense of dread washed over him as he realized that his foolish blood traitor friend was missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting closer to the end of the first book. Let me know what you think so far!


	19. The trials.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first of two chapters in a row that are from Neville's point of view.

The cloaked figure menacingly hovered over his bed. Silver dripped from its mouth just like that night. It seemed to be lying in wait for him to awake before attacking. Faintly there was a hiss emitting from the creature’s lips. Sometimes it sounded like it was saying, “Neville”.

In the background he heard the whisper of the Centaur, spoken like the night of their detention.

“Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?” He would hear the centaur, Firenze, eerily state in the background.

“Who’d be so desperate?” He had asked that night.

“It is.” The centaur had whispered in his ear. “unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else—something that will bring you back to full strength and power—-something that will mean you never die. Mr. Longbottom, do you know what is hidden in the school this very moment?”

Neville immediately thought of the Philosopher’s Stone but before he could say as such the centaur continued. 

“Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?”

At these words, the monster jerked to attention and pulled its cloak around Neville like a shield and they’d return to the forest. It cackled menacingly as it pulled from Neville, a sense of desperate hunger radiating from it. The monster flung itself at him, its mouth outstretched as though to devour him. Neville put his arms up in defense but every time he was swallowed whole into the void of the monster’s mouth.

Ever since detention in the Forbidden Forest Neville awoke, his scar burning and his body shuddering violently. It always took him a few moments to realize he was safe again.

The day after detention, Neville, and Hermione sat by the lake to escape the oppressive heat. Around midday, Seamus showed up, muttering apologies for being a “right coward” for hiding so long. Hermione and Neville shook their heads.

“We’re scared too, you know.” Neville said. “It was horrible how everyone hated us on top of Snape being after the Stone.” 

Hermione nodded her head. “That’s why we've got to stick together.” She stated. “Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Neville and Seamus said simultaneously.

Then Neville explained to them both what happened in the Forbidden Forest and the dream he had the prior night.

They became unquestionably quiet after he finished speaking. Neville got the unmistakable feeling that they were being watched.

“Snape wants the stone for You-Know-Who. I reckon he was the one behind the cloak drinking from the unicorn.” Neville broke through the silence.

“The centaurs seem to think everything is written in the stars but even they have been wrong.” He shook his head, slightly, certain that there was something that he was missing.

“If we wait for Snape to steal the stone You-Know-Who will finish me off for certain.” He said it almost casually.

Seamus and Hermione exchanged dumbfounded, horrified looks.

“Everyone says Dumbledore is the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. With Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who won't touch you. Anyway, who knows how precise the centaurs are. Professor McGonagall says it’s an imprecise branch of magic.” Hermione said with a certainty Neville wished he shared.

They paused as the sound of a twig breaking caught their attention. They glanced at each other with wide eyes, fully aware they were most likely being paranoid. They ceased the conversation regardless and switched to studying for the exams.

Their final exams crept up on them quickly. Neville had no idea how he made it through them with constantly worrying about the stone, his nightmares, burning scar and that strange feeling of being followed. Perhaps it was exhaustion or a side effect of his worrying but he seemed twice as clumsy as normal.

Neville plopped down in the grass again after their exams finally ended, dejected and achy from taking so many falls.

“Cheer up, mate. We’ve got a week before we know our scores.” Seamus quipped cheerfully.

Neville rubbed his head irritably. It had started to burn during the daytime too.

“I wish I knew what this means!” He exclaimed loudly, interrupting whatever Seamus was saying. “My scar keeps burning. It happened before but not like this!”

“Go to Madam Pomfrey.” Hermione suggested.

“I’m not ill. I think it’s a warning. Danger is coming.” Neville gravely stated.

“I think it’s alright, mate. Hermione’s right. The Stone’s safe as long as Dumbledore is here. Besides, we haven’t any proof Snape ever figured out how to get past Fluffy.” Seamus pointed out.

Neville heard a scuff and glanced around. The other two didn’t seem to notice. Neville was starting to think he was going mad. It seemed just as mental for someone to get past a sleeping three headed dog. Unless they knew the creature well enough. 

He jumped to his feet abruptly. “What if Snape already knows how to get past Fluffy? That he’s known for several weeks?” He paced in the grass, practically buzzing with energy.

“If he knows then what is he waiting for?” Seamus’ eyes followed him anxiously.

Neville stopped abruptly. “I don’t know. Maybe You-Know-Who had to first gather strength. You remember—” He shuddered at the memory of the Forbidden Forest. 

Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore. Hagrid would never tell anyone how to get past Fluffy. Yet. He jumped to his feet.

“What if someone who knows about dangerous creatures let it slip sometime? I mean, it fits, though, doesn’t it? He had been wanting a dragon egg and he just so happened to somehow gotten one. It’s lucky that they found Hagrid, don’t you think?” Neville paused, “I think it’s time we visit Hagrid.” 

Neville set his jaw in a determinate manner and headed toward the hut.

At first, he thought he left them behind but soon enough he heard them behind him. 

Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up, and he was shelling peas into a large bowl.

“Hullo,” he said, smiling. “Finish yer exams? Got time for a drink?”

“Not right now, Hagrid. We have something important to ask you.” Neville abruptly stated. “Where did you get the dragon egg from?” 

“I won it in a game o’ cards, why? What is this about?”

Hermione frowned. “With who?” She added.

“I never did see his face. He wouldn’ take his cloak off.”

The three of them exchanged horrified glances. 

Hagrid sent them a puzzled look. “It’s not that unusual, yeh get a lot o’ funny folk in the Hog’s Head—that’s the pub down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn’ he?”

Neville pursed his lips thoughtfully.

“Did you mention Hogwarts?” Seamus asked as he plopped down next to the bowl of peas.

“Mighta come up.” He paused. “Yeah…he asked what I did, an’ I told him I was a gamekeeper here. He asked what sort of creatures I look after. I said what I really wanted was a dragon an’...well a bit foggy since he kept buyin’ me drinks.” He frowned. “He said he has the dragon egg an’ we could play cards if I wanted. He said he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn’ want it ter go ter any old home. I said after Fluffy a dragon would be easy.”

Neville blinked as he processed what Hagrid was saying. “Did he seem interested in Fluffy?” 

“Well yeah! How many three-headed dogs d’yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy’s a piece o'cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus’ play him a bit o’ music an’ he’s go off to sleep.”

Hagrid’s eyes bugged out of his head as he realized what he had just revealed. “I shouldn’ta told yeh that!”

The three of them were already running toward the castle. Neville’s heart was pounding out of his chest as they rushed inside. They stopped at the entrance way, for a moment at a loss. Neville could have sworn something whirled past him. He turned to Hermione and Seamus who appeared equally puzzled. 

Neville thought for a moment of Potter’s cloak but then wrote it off. He didn’t have time to wonder what he was up to.

“We need to find Dumbledore before You-Know-Who has enough strength to pursue the Stone.” Neville stated.

“Right but where is his office? Have you ever been there?” Hermione questioned.

Before either Seamus or Hermione could answer they heard footsteps behind them. They turned around, facing Professor McGonagall.

“What are you doing inside?” She questioned.

“We need to see Professor Dumbledore.” Hermione bravely stated.

“See Professor Dumbledore?” Professor McGonagall repeated slowly. “Why?”

Neville racked his brain for any excuse to see the Headmaster.

Professor McGonagall’s nostrils flared in annoyance. “Is this some sort of joke? If so, I am not amused.”

“This is important!” Neville boldly blurted out.

“Surely then you can tell me. Professor Dumbledore received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once.” 

“He’s _gone_?” Neville squeaked out. “ _Now_?”

“Professor Dumbledore is a very—-”

“It’s about the Philosopher’s Stone!” Seamus burst out.

Professor McGonagall stared at them in shock, silent for several moments.

“How do you know—-” She spluttered.

“Professor, I think I know—Sn—someone is trying to steal it!” Neville struggled to get the words out.

“We have to talk to Professor Dumbledore!” Hermione urged.

Professor McGonagall sent the three of them a rather scrutinizing glance. “Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow. I don’t know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured that no one can possibly steal it, it’s too well protected.”

“But Professor—” Neville began.

“I suggest you go back outside and enjoy the sunshine.” Professor McGonagall quickly moved past them.

They exchanged worried glances and headed toward the Gryffindor Common Room.

Neville was too deep in thought to register the solid surface he ran into. He staggered back in shock, blinking. The other two stopped in their tracks.

“Can’t you walk without running into something?” Malfoy sneered.

Neville rubbed his head irritably. Malfoy was the last person he wanted to see right now.

“Bugger off, Malfoy.” Seamus growled.

He expected a snarky comeback from Malfoy but he was merely glancing between them as though looking for something.

“What do you want?” Neville’s head was still spinning from impact. 

Malfoy appeared a bit dazed himself. “Have you seen Potter?” He asked in a low growl.

He perked a brow, opening his mouth to retort something but then shut it. Malfoy appeared squirmy, scared even.

“You shouldn’t be inside on a day like this.” Came a voice behind them. 

The four of them froze.

Snape was staring at them intently. “I dare say none of you can afford to lose any more points.” He narrowed his gaze on Malfoy.

Without another word Malfoy scurried away, his pale face appeared to be quite haunted. Snape, on the other hand, appeared smug. He had an overwhelming sense of foreboding wash over him.

“Yes sir. Right back outside.” Neville tried to sound earnest. 

Without another word he headed down the hallway. His mind was racing. Now that he thought of it, he hadn’t seen Harry with Malfoy or anywhere. _Where is he_? 

He thought back to the weird moments outside and the brush past once inside the castle and he stopped so abruptly Seamus rammed into his back.

“What are ya doing, mate?” He snapped.

“Harry. He has an invisibility cloak. He’s been spying on us and he—we have to find him.” Neville rambled.

“What?” Seamus snapped.

“Invisibility cloak. Following us. Wants all the glory?” Neville repeated in short bursts.

“No way would he go alone. Why would he? He’s a Slytherin.” Hermione pointed out.

“Yes, and You-Know-Who followers also attacked his parents. He wants vengeance.” For a moment Neville had to marvel at the ridiculousness of the notion of only being comprised of the traits of their own House. “We have to find him.” He reiterated.

They headed toward the Forbidden Corridor on the third floor but it seemed Professor McGonagall was already hanging about nearby as though she already suspected they’d try something.

“Now what?” Seamus questioned once they were a good distance away.

“I don’t know. But we can’t stop trying!” Neville stated. 

“Oh, come off it, Longbottom. I suppose if we make it out alive, I can forgive you for telling my secret.”

They turned to see Harry floating head in front of them. Seamus and Hermione gaped at him in disbelief while Neville rolled his eyes, smirking. “That’s the least of my worries.”

“Get under here already you louts!” Harry instructed. “Did you really think I’d just run in there in the middle of the day? I’m not stupid. 

“But we do have to go tonight! Snape keeps hanging around the corridor. He’ll make his move after curfew, I’m sure of it.”

“How long have you been following us using that thing?” Seamus asked.

“Priorities, you git.” Harry returned. “If you can manage it, meet me back here and we will go tonight, together.”

“Maybe we should wait for Dumbledore…” Hermione stated tentatively.

Neville ruefully shook his head. “He’s right. If we wait it might be too late and—no telling if he’d believe us.”

Silence erupted between the four of them.

“You don’t have to go. You, Po—Harry, and Seamus hide under the invisibility cloak and wait for us.” Neville spoke after a moment. 

“So you can be the hero? I want to end this. We can’t let You-Know-Who return.” Harry stated with fierce conviction. 

“He’s right—about not letting You-Know-Who return, anyway. We are all in this together.” Hermione stated.

“Shut up. You three are nauseating.” Potter whipped the cloak off of them. “Meet me here at 11:15 P.M.” 

Harry became invisible again in a blink of an eye.

The three of them exchanged leery glances of uncertainty. They weren’t sure whether to trust Harry or not despite having the same goal in mind. Neville feared he’d leave them behind and go in alone.

The rest of the day went by slowly. Neville could barely eat due to nerves. His only relief was spotting Snape in his usual seat at the staff table.

At eleven they sneaked out into the corridor with trepidation. Neville found the silence foreboding. 11:15 P.M. came and went. After waiting for twenty more minutes Neville let out a frustrated grunt.

“Do you think he really tried to go in alone?” Hermione asked in awe.

“Anything for all the glory I’d wager.” Seamus spat out.

Neville paused, biting his lip as he weighed the options. “Let’s go.” He said finally. 

They made their way down the corridors and up to the third floor. 

“What are you doing?” Came a whisper behind them.

They turned and spotted Ron there. _Had he followed them the whole way there?_

“Nothing. Go back to bed.” Neville hissed.

“No! You’ve been avoiding me and whispering enough as it is. What is going on?”

They didn’t get a chance to answer.

“Do I hear students out of bed? Do I need to call Filchy?” Peeves sang out.

“Just...distract him. Please! We are sorry for all this but we do have a good reason. Will tell you later but now we’ve got to go!” Neville sent him a pleading look. 

Ron glared at him for a moment and then nodded with resolve. “What are mates for?”

He took off running down the stairs, with Peeves whirling past them.

Neville, Seamus, and Hermione took off for the Forbidden Corridor. 

When they arrived, they stopped in front of the door that swung ajar.

“Either Snape, Harry or both have been here already.” Hermione pointed out.

“You don’t have to do this.” Neville tried to sound braver than he felt.

“Don’t be stupid, we’re coming.” Seamus replied.

The three of them slid inside the door. Low, rumbling growls met their ears and then a loud snore. A harp was playing softly in the background.

“It must be what Snape used to get past Fluffy.” Neville stated.

They crept past the giant heads; every breath was a toxic, hot sauna.

The three of them approached the trap door. “On a count of three…” 

They paused. Something was different. 

“The harp…” Hermione shakily stated.

They realized that the room had become silent. They glanced up as the breath blew over them, a low, fierce growl emitted from the dog’s lips. 

“Now!” Neville exclaimed and they lifted the trap door and jumped into the darkness.

Cold, damp air rushed past him as he fell into the abyss. He couldn’t see the other two nor could he sense an end to the pit they sprung into. Just when he thought he was trapped in an endless loop of emptiness he hit something soft beneath him. 

He sat up and glanced about, at first not seeing anything in the gloom. He felt around, recognizing the feel of a plant beneath his fingertips.

“Neville? Hermione?” Seamus spoke into the darkness.

“Here.” Hermione and Neville rang out in unison.

“Good...we all made it then.” Seamus murmured. “What is this stuff?” He added.

“Some sort of plant.” Neville confidently stated.

He tried to get up but soon realized that the plant was twisting itself around his torso, its snakelike tendrils trapping him in its grasp. Glancing over, he realized that the other two were in the same predicament. The more he moved the worse it became. That was when it hit him.

“Devil’s Snare!” He yelled out. 

“What?” Seamus called out desperately.

“Devil’s Snare! We need fire!” He called out.

His body was too entangled to grab his wand at this point. Slowly the tendrils wrapped around his throat and he could see patches of darkness in front of his eyes. Then he was falling, fast and hit the ground with a thump. Slightly disoriented, he glanced up, spotting the fire engulfing the murderous plant. He turned to his side, unsure what to expect. Hermione and Seamus sat beside him on the solid ground.

“You guys OK?” Neville croaked out. 

“Yeah. Seamus...set it on fire.” Hermione had a hint of a smile on her face.

“Aye. Gotta stick to your strengths.” He sounded jovial for the predicament they were in.

As they stood up, Neville noticed Seamus appeared a bit singed. As soon as he began to walk his limp became obvious.

Hermione pointed down a stone passageway. “This way.” Her voice was a bit shaky.

All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. A light shone in the distance as they silently moved along. As they got closer, they could hear a soft rustling and clinking.

“What might that sound be?” Seamus asked in a harsh whisper.

“No idea.” Neville murmured.

They continued until they reached the end of the passageway. Before them was a brilliantly lit chamber with a high arched ceiling. It was filled with small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.

“They’ll probably attack us as soon as we move.” Neville pointed out. 

“I’ll run across.” Seamus said. “You will trip over your feet.”

“You’re already limping. I’ll go.” Hermione stated.

Before either of them could object she raced across to the other end. The birds didn’t attack like they thought they would. Neville and Seamus followed after her. They spotted her tugging on the door as they approached. Even when Hermione tried the Alohomora charm it would not budge.

“Now what?” Seamus asked.

They studied the birds in silence for several moments. Neville liked the way they glimmered. His eyes widened slightly. “They’re not birds, they’re keys!” He exclaimed.

“OK so—one of these keys open the door. But which is the right one? There are _hundreds_ of them.” Hermione pointed out.

Seamus stared at the door. “We need a big, old fashioned one. Silver like then handle.” 

They glanced upward again, trying to scour for a key that fits the description. 

“We need better vantage point.” Seamus said. His eyes searched around the room. “There!” A few brooms laid on the ground.

They exchanged nervous glances. None of them were particularly good at flying. Least of all, Neville.

“I’ll fly up there and see if I can see it.” Seamus spoke after a moment. 

“I’ll cast Wingardium Leviosa and you fly it down to Neville.” Hermione said.

“OK. Here goes nothing, then.” Seamus said as he zoomed off into the air.

Seamus seemed to struggle to find it. He was no Seeker. Neville begrudgingly had to admit Harry would have been useful here. _Where did he go?_ _Maybe Snape caught him._ He shuddered at the thought. He hoped that wasn’t what happened.

Finally, Seamus cried out, “That one!” 

It was large with bright blue wings and feathers that were all crumpled on the one side.

He stopped short, watching it carefully. “ _Wingardium Leviosa”._ Seamus raced toward it as soon as Hermione cast the charm, knowing it wouldn’t linger for very long. Seamus stretched forward toward the temporarily levitating object, straining to catch it before it was too late. At the last second his hand curled around it. 

The momentum caused him to lose balance and he started to fall, only at the last-minute grabbing hold of his broom with his free hand.

“Seamus!” Hermione and Neville exclaimed. 

They rushed over to stand directly under him. 

"You’re going to have to let go!” Hermione called out.

“Have you gone barmy? I’ll break my neck!” Seamus shrieked. 

“Trust us! We are right here!” Neville sounded more confident than he felt.

They stood side by side with their arms out, ready to catch him horizontally across the two of them.

“On a count of three.” Hermione pressed. 

“One”

“Two”

“Three!” Seamus yelled with all of the night he could muster and let go. 

He fell directly in their arms, nearly taking them down in the process. 

After letting him down, Neville bent down slightly to catch his breath. “Told...you...we’d...catch...you.”

“Aye, that you did. Thanks mates!”

Hermione and Neville waved him off as he approached the door, shoving the key in almost violently and unlocked it.

The next chamber was so dark they couldn’t see anything. But as they stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.

They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. The towering white chessman had no faces.

“What now?” Neville asked with trepidation.

“I-I think we have to play.” Hermione stammered.

“Oh, no.” Seamus groaned.

“The three of us playing should be OK. I mean, Ron was teaching you, right?” Neville asked Seamus.

He nodded. “He said I was doing well but this—” he gulped.

“I’m not bad either.” Neville said after a moment. 

Hermione appeared quite jittery and shaken. This was not something she knew and it was obvious it bothered her that she couldn’t help much.

“How are we going to do this?” Neville asked as he stared at the massive board before them.

“I think we have to be the chessman ourselves.” Seamus said as he approached the black knight and put his hand on the piece. It immediately came to life. The horse pawed at the ground and the knight turned to look at Seamus.

"We need to think about what pieces to play.” Neville pointed out.

Seamus and Neville’s gaze flitted over the board, calculating their best options. 

“What if I took the Bishop and Hermione took the rook.” Neville suggested.

“Sounds good.” He agreed.

“Uh- which is that?” Hermione asked.

“The castle one.” Seamus pointed to it.

The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a bishop, knight, and rook turned their backs and walked off the board.

They moved to their places. Neville was relieved his space was close enough to Seamus so they could discuss the moves as needed.

“White goes first.” Seamus murmured. 

Sure enough, a white pawn moved forward two squares.

Neville and Seamus bantered over what move was best before each decision. Neville couldn’t help but what wonder what would happen if they lost.

“Neville—move diagonally four squares to the right.” Seamus had won that argument.

When one of their knights was taken a move later, they watched in horror as the white queen smashed it to the ground and dragged the chess piece off the board.

They stared in stunned silence at the sheer magnitude of danger they were in. Each time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Neville was terrified that they weren’t going to make it.

Twice, they nearly didn’t catch their own mistakes in time, much to Neville’s dismay.

“We are almost there.” Seamus said finally. 

Neville couldn’t think let alone strategize. 

“It’s the only way.” Seamus’ words caught Neville’s attention. “It’s got to be taken.”

Neville’s gaze searched the board quickly before his eyes widened. 

“No!” He exclaimed.

“It is the only way. Ron taught me that sometimes you have to make sacrifices!” He hissed. “I take one step forward and she’ll take me—-then you checkmate the king, Neville!”

“But Seamus—”

“We do what we have to. You’ve got to get to Snape and stop him, alright?” He cut in quickly.

Neville knew he was right but it didn’t stop the knot from hitching in his throat. He and Hermione exchanged terrified glances.

“Here goes nothin’.” He murmured. “Don’t linger after you’ve won.” He added, sending them pointed looks.

He stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Seamus hard in the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor.

Hermione screamed but stayed on her square. The white queen dragged an unconscious Seamus off the board.

With his whole body shaking, Neville moved three spaces to the left.

The white king took off his crown and threw it at Neville in defeat. They had won. The chessman parted and bowed, leaving the door ajar. Neville glanced back at Seamus not wanting to leave him behind. _What will happen to him_? 

“Come on, Neville.” Hermione put her hand on his shoulder reassuringly. 

“What if he’s—” Neville couldn’t finish the sentence. 

“We’ll come back for him.” She replied confidently. 

Neville nodded slightly and opened the next door.

A disgusting smell filled their nostrils. They simultaneously covered their noses with their robes as their eyes watered at the stench. On the floor in front of them they spotted a troll that surpassed the size of the one that was released on Halloween, an event that already seemed like a lifetime ago. It was out cold with a bloody lump on its head.

“At least we don’t have to fight this one.” Neville murmured to Hermione.

He pulled open the next door and saw a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing in a line.

They stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire that burned purple sprang up behind them in the doorway. At the same instant black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. Neville and Hermione gulped upon realizing they were trapped.

“Look!” Hermione seized a roll of parchment lying next to the bottles. 

Hermione read it out loud as Neville glanced at it over her shoulder.

“ _Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

_Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,_

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

_Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line._

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

_First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

_You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;_

_Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

_But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;_

_Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

_Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

_Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight.”_

Hermione let out a sigh of relief after she finished. Neville perked a brow at her as he allowed the words to sink in. 

“This isn’t magic, it’s logic. A puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven’t got an ounce of logic. They’d be stuck here forever.” Hermione explained.

“Not us, though. I love a good puzzle.” Neville remarked.

“Exactly.” Hermione responded. “OK, let's see. There are seven bottles. Three are poison, two are wine, one will safely get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple.” She began, her brows furrowed in concentration.

“OK.” Neville confirmed as he glanced back onto the parchment. “We’ve got hints to help us.” He read them through again. “The poison tries to hide, nettle is on the left side, different are those on either end but moving forward neither are your friend.” He paused as he glanced at the bottles, trying to place them in his mind. “If the poisons are hidden, neither of the two on the end will be the ones that allow us to move forward. The wine is on the left.”

Hermione nodded silently as she studied the parchment. “They’re all different sizes. The biggest and smallest aren’t deadly. The second on left and right are the same though appear different.” She concluded with a slight sigh.

Neville was staring at the bottles so hard they were beginning to blur. Hermione walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to herself and pointing at them. He was starting to feel a bit faint. 

At last, she clapped her hands.

“Got it,” She said. “The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire toward the Stone.”

They exchanged nervous glances.

“There’s only enough for one of us.” Neville pointed out. “Which one will get us through the purple flames?” He mused; the realization had already hit him.

Hermione pointed to the rounded bottle at the right end of the line.

“You drink that one so you can get back. Grab Seamus and then fly on a broom to get up from the trap door. Get to the owlery and send Trevor to Dumbledore, we need him. I-I’m no match for Snape. I can only stall for time.” Neville instructed.

“What if You-Know-Who is with him?” Hermione’s were wide with fear.

“Got lucky once, didn’t I? Maybe I will again.” He let out a nervous laugh.

It was cut short as Hermione wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He let out an oof, and pink tinted his cheeks. Neville put his arms around her in return and then took a step back.

“Neville—-you’re a great wizard, you know. Much better than you give yourself credit for.”

He shook his head, “Not as good as you. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.” He stated.

“Books—cleverness—it’s not everything. Bravery, friendship, and a willingness to learn are also essential.”

“You have all of those things too.” He pointed out. 

Hermione’s cheeks turned pink.

“Please be careful.” Hermione said after a few moments.

“You too.” Neville’s lip was quivering. “OK. You drink first.” His brows furrowed in concentration.

She nodded as she picked up the bottle at the end of the end and drank it down with a shudder.

“Like ice.” She shivered.

“Hurry, now, before it wears off!” He urged.

“Good luck—take care—-”

“Go!”

Hermione turned and walked straight through the purple fire. Neville glanced down at the smallest bottle and picked it up. He turned to face the black flames.

“Here goes nothing.” He drained the bottle in one gulp.

He felt a surge of ice flooding through his body as he put down the bottle. He walked toward the black flames and stepped inside. They licked against his skin but he couldn't feel them. For a moment he saw nothing but black flame. Then he was on the other side in the last chamber.

He heard an outcry as Harry became visible once the invisibility cloak was ripped off by someone that was neither Snape nor You-Know-Who.


	20. The face-off.

Quirrell threw Harry roughly on the ground.

“Interesting item, you’ve got here boy. Thought you’d spy on us and get away with it, did you?” He hissed out as he threw the Invisibility cloak behind him.

Harry’s eyes were wide with fear as he tried to quickly scramble away from him while on the ground. 

Quirrell reached out for him and stopped short. He spun on his heels, facing Neville.

“You.” Neville gaped at him in shock. “But I thought—Snape—”

“Severus?” Quirrell’s laugh was cold and sharp. “Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn’t he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?”

Neville became vaguely aware of Harry by his side. 

“But Snape tried to kill me!” Harry exclaimed hotly.

“No, no, no, I tried to kill you.” He coldly replied. “Perhaps I should have spent more time trying to kill you.” He eyed Neville. “I underestimated you.

“Snape was watching you both ever so closely to make sure nothing else happened. He needn’t have bothered with Dumbledore watching. What a waste of time when I’m going to kill you both tonight.”

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves around Neville and Harry so that they were tied up back to back.

“You two are too nosy to live.” He stared. “And to think you could have avoided this, Harry, if you had stayed out of it. Scurrying around the school on Halloween. For all I knew you’d seen me coming to see what was guarding the stone.”

“You let in the troll?” Neville interjected.

“Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls. You saw what I did to the one in the chamber back there. Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off -- and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly.

“Both of you wait here quietly. I need to examine this interesting mirror.”

Neville and Harry exchanged looks as they realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised.

“This mirror is the key to finding the Stone.” Quirrell muttered as he tapped his way around the frame. “Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this. He’s in London now and by the time he returns I’ll be long gone.”

“We saw you in the forest.” Harry blurted out. Neville perked a brow at him and Harry shot him a look.

“Yeah. Talking to Snape.” Neville chimed in.

“Yes,” said Quirrell idly as he walked to glance at the back of the mirror. “He was on to me by that time, trying to find out far I’d got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me. As though he could when I have Lord Voldemort at my side.”

Both of the boys visibly winced at the name.

Quirrell came out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily at it.

“I see the Stone...I’m presenting it to my master...but where is it?”

Harry tugged on the ropes in frustration. Neville knew that pulling on it wasn’t going to help matters. They needed a plan. The rope was likely enchanted.

He gazed back at the mirror. They had to distract him so that he didn’t figure out how to get the Stone. _Didn’t Dumbledore say that it showed nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire_ _of our hearts?_ _How will he get the Stone then?_

There was something essential that he was missing. It was like the last room with the potions. He just had to figure out the riddle.

He met Harry’s gaze again. ‘Keep him talking.’ He mouthed. Harry gave a slight nod of understanding.

“But Snape always had it out for Neville and me.” Harry spoke up.

“Oh, he does,” said Quirrell casually, “heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn’t you know? They loathed each other.” He said. “Neville hardly appeared to be a threat. He is the Chosen One yet he seemed to be a bumbling fool. Snape questioned the Prophecy. The fool dared question the Dark Lord. Clearly Snape underestimated him.” 

_What Prophecy? What does that have to do with me being “The Chosen One” as though it defines me as a person. I am never good enough._

He balled his hands into fists, tired of being told who he was and what he was or was not capable of. 

After a few moments he relaxed his hands as they laid at his side. _Anger won’t help either of us get out of this._

At that moment something else occurred to him. “I heard you crying in a classroom. I thought Snape was threatening you.” 

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell’s face.

“Sometimes,” he said, “I find it hard to follow my master’s instructions—-he is a great wizard and I am weak—-”

“He was there with you?” Neville pressed, ignoring the agitated glance from Harry.

“He is with me wherever I go.” Quirrell quietly stated.

Neville’s mind raced, vaguely aware he continued to speak. He thought back to the Forbidden Forest and what the centaur said about the cursed half-life obtained when drinking unicorn blood. It was unnerving. His mind refocused on Quirrell saying You-Know-Who was always with him. _But how?_

Harry interrupted his thoughts with a nudge. Neville turned toward him with a questioning look. 

Quirrell had turned back toward the mirror. “...is the Stone _inside_ the mirror? Should I break it?” He was muttering.

“Think of anything?” Harry murmured after a moment. 

Neville’s heart pounded out of his chest. He watched Quirrell for a moment as he tried to seek the Stone. 

“What I want more than anything is to get the Stone before Quirrell.” Neville whispered after a moment.

“Then we better move.” He returned, soft enough that Quirrell couldn’t hear him. He wiggled a bit in the ropes to emphasize his point. 

“But if it’s not working for him...how will it for me?” Neville asked, his gaze nervously turning to Quirrell. He paid no heed to them now.

“I don’t know. You’re the bloody ‘Chosen One’.” Harry spat. “If you have any other brilliant alternative plans, do let me know.” 

Neville let out an exasperated sigh. “On the count of three we move in unison to the left.”

Harry simply nodded his head. 

“One”

“Two”

“Three”

They tried to maneuver to the left but the ropes around their ankles were too tight. They fell to the ground with a thump. 

“Now what?” Harry hissed. 

Neville was out of ideas.

“What does the mirror do? How does it work? Help me, master!” Quirrell was saying.

Neville’s mouth gaped open in terror as a voice answered from Quirrell himself.

“Use the Chosen One…”

Quirrell rounded on Neville and clapped his hands once, and the ropes unwound from Neville and Harry.

“Yes. Come here, Longbottom. Prove your worth.” 

Neville got slowly to his feet. He glanced back at Harry who looked like he had been stunned.

He gulped and walked toward him.

_I have to lie about what I see. That’s all. Right? It won’t work anyway. Quirrell had tried numerous times and nothing happened._

Quirrell moved close behind him. Neville breathed in the funny smell from Quirrell’s turban. He stepped in front of the mirror and gazed into it. His own terrified expression and paled, sweating face stared back at him. A moment later, the reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into his pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket. As it did so, Neville felt something heavy drop into his pocket. Somehow it had worked!

Before he could ponder the meaning of that mystery, Quirrell spoke up.

“Well?” said Quirrell impatiently. “What do you see?” 

Neville’s voice quivered as he spoke. “I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore—”

He broke off when he heard Harry’s booming voice yell out, “ _Petrificus Totalus!”_

He turned to see that he had his wand out and aimed at Quirrell, who easily blocked it and pointed his wand back at Harry.

“ _Alarte Ascendare_!” 

Harry shot through the air and hit his head against the far wall. 

“Harry!” Neville yelled and started to run toward him. 

“Come back, Neville and tell me what you see!” Quirrell called out.

“He lies...He lies…” A high-pitched voice had him stop dead in his tracks. 

Neville slowly turned to face him as the high-pitched voice spoke again. 

“Let me speak to him...face to face.”

“Master, you are not strong enough!”

“I have strength enough for this.”

Neville remained frozen, petrified with fear as Quirrell started to unwrap his turban. Once it fell away, he turned around.

He opened his mouth to scream but no sound came out. When there should have been a back to Quirrell’s head, there was a horrifying, disfigured face. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

“Neville Longbottom…” it whispered.

He remained paralyzed with fear.

“See what I have become?" the face said. "Mere shadow and vapor. I have form only when I can share another's body but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds. Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own. Now, why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?”

A jolt of energy surged through Neville as he stumbled backwards. _He knows._

Don't be a fool," snarled the face. "Better save your own life and join me or you'll meet the same end as your parents. They died begging me for mercy."

Neville’s hands curled into fists and gritted his teeth, rage building deep within him. His body was shaking with a fury that bubbled just below the surface.

“Liar.” He spat out finally.

Quirrell was walking backward at him, so that Voldemort could still see him. The evil face was now smiling.

"I’ve always valued bravery. Yes, boy, your parents were brave. I killed your father first; and he put up a courageous fight but your mother needn't have died. She died trying to protect you. Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain."

“I’d never join you.” He hissed with all the spite he could muster.

The face let out a hissing laugh. “I’ll take the Stone regardless after killing the other boy and then you.” 

Neville ran toward Harry’s fallen figure and stood in front of him protectively. “No!” 

“SEIZE HIM!” You-Know-Who screamed.

Quirrell lunged at him, knocking Neville clear off his feet. He plummeted into Harry, landing on top of him.

The weight of Quirrell crushed his chest and sucked out the air in his lungs. He was certain he would die. If that were so he wouldn’t allow him to get the Stone. Help might come too late for him but perhaps he could save Harry and protect the Stone from Voldemort. He winced at the name, even in his head, but he refused to fear it anymore. _I’m not going to die afraid!_

His scar seared with blinding pain as both of Quirrell’s hands wrapped around Neville’s neck. Quirrell’s howling echoed in his mind as he quickly pulled his hands away.

“Master, I cannot hold him! My hands, my hands!”

Quirrell was still holding him with his weight but he did not reach out for him. He was staring at his hands in wonder. Neville could see that they were burned, raw, red, and shiny.

Neville didn’t know how much time he had so he pulled the Stone out of his own pocket and reached over and placed it into Harry’s. He had to protect it now.

“Then kill him, fool, and be done!” Screeched Voldemort. 

As Quirrell reached his hand up to perform a deadly curse, Neville remembered the way his hands burned when they touched him. Despite being unsure it would work, Neville reached up and grabbed Quirrell’s face.

Immediately upon impact Quirrell let out a blood curdling scream and rolled off of him, his face blistering. He became certain that he couldn’t touch Neville without suffering terrible pain.

Neville pulled himself to his feet and grabbed hold of Quirrell’s arm and held on as tight as he could. _If I can keep him from cursing us until help arrives—-_

The agony of his scar festered, building into white spots that blinded him. Quirrell’s scream cut through him like glass as he struggled to pull away. 

“KILL HIM! KILL HIM!” He heard Voldemort screech in the background.

He thought he heard Harry too but he wasn’t sure. He opened his mouth to tell Harry to use him as a shield but no sound came out. He felt Quirrell pull from his grip entirely and Neville fell to the ground, darkness enveloping around him like a blanket and choked him.

Something gold glittered just above him. It was beautiful. He blinked and it was gone. He wanted to rub his eyes but he felt like a boulder had rolled over his body repeatedly.

He blinked again and saw the smiling face of Dumbledore above him.

“Good afternoon, Neville.” Said Dumbledore.

He grunted groggily, unsure where he was. He remembered screaming and darkness. His eyes widened and he sat up with a groan. The room spun around him.

“Quirrell...the Stone! He has it!” He shouted as he grabbed his throbbing head.

"Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times," said Dumbledore. "Quirrell does not have the Stone."

"What about Harry? Is he OK? What about Seamus? Hermione? Is everyone OK I-"

Dumbledore waved his hand at him dismissively. "Everyone is alright, don’t worry. Neville, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out.” 

Neville let out an audible sigh of relief and then laid back down, his head was still spinning. He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them. He took in his surroundings. He gathered he was in the hospital wing. He was lying in a bed with white linen sheets, and next to him was a table piled high with what looked like half the candy shop. 

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," said Dumbledore, beaming. "What happened down in the dungeons between you, Harry and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows.”

Neville wasn’t sure if he found comfort in that or not. The truth tended to get skewed. However, he had more important questions to ask at the moment.

“How long have I been in here?”

“Three days. Your friends will be happy to know you have roused. They were quite worried.” Dumbledore stated.

“And Harry?”

“Discharged already, though he has been hanging around and helping himself to some of your goodies. “ Dumbledore smiled.

“I’m sure he did.” Neville stated dryly.

He knew better, though. Harry hated hospitals because of his parents. He wouldn’t come around just for sweets. _Was Harry worried about me?_ He never thought Harry genuinely cared for him. He hadn’t had time to think about it before but the way he risked his life for Neville was admirable. He proved to be redeemable, after all.

“What about the Stone?” Neville asked after a few moments.

“Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to prevent that, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time. I feared I might be too late."

“You nearly were. I couldn't have kept him off the Stone much longer --"

"Not the Stone, boy, you. The effort involved nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."

"Destroyed?" Neville perked his brows. "What about Nicolas Flamel?”

"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" said Dumbledore, sounding quite delighted. "You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best."

“He and his wife will die then, won’t they?” 

"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die." Dumbledore said.

Neville furrowed his brows, mulling it over a bit. “Watching everyone you love die around you while you remained alive doesn’t sound all that appealing anyway, no offense to your friend.” Neville said after a moment.

Dumbledore smiled. “Yes. But humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are the worst for them."

Neville nodded his head, though he struggled to fully wrap his head around the whole thing.

After a few moments of silence, Neville spoke up again. "I've been thinking. Even if the Stone's gone, Vol-, I mean, You-Know- Who --"

"Call him Voldemort. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"

"No, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share. Not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die. He shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. You and Harry both delayed his return, which is something. Perhaps it will be even more difficult next time and he may never return to power. In absentia lucis, tenebrae vincunt. In the absence of light, darkness prevails. We must take heed to keep the lights on.”

Neville blinked at him, unsure if he was comforted by his words. "Sorry, just a few more questions. I want to understand.” He said after a pregnant pause.

“Ask away. You’ve earned a few answers and I shall provide them the best I can.”

"Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?"

Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time. “Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day. Put it out of your mind for now, Neville. .When you are older, I know you hate to hear this, and you are ready, you will know."

Neville frowned but didn’t press it.

"But why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"

"Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother’s for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign... to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."

Neville took it in, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. Dumbledore seemed to become interested in the bird just outside his window. He wiped his face while the man was distracted and sniffed a bit.

“What did he mean about the prophecy? Quirrell said that Snape had doubted it. What was the prophecy? Why did he call me the Chosen One?”

“Ah, another thing to find out once you are older. Let me just say that there was more than one route that could have been taken.”

Neville frowned at him. He hated being in the dark and treated like he was a dumb kid. _Haven’t I proved myself worthy yet?_

“Don’t fret, Neville. I am merely preserving what little childhood is left for you. Once it is gone; it can never return.”

Neville couldn’t argue with that.

"Last question. How did I get the Stone out of the mirror?"

"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone but not use it would be able to get it. Otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes. Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit flavored one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?" 

He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, "Alas! Ear wax!"

Shortly after Dumbledore left, Neville ate a few of the sweets left and drifted off to sleep.

He awoke to the grating sound of someone chewing. Letting out a groan, he brought his hands up to his ears. It was a fruitless effort because the sound never ceased. Upon realizing he was not going to fall back asleep; he opened his eyes. He saw unruly hair, round rim frames, and a mischievous smirk through his blurred vision. 

“Harry?” He croaked out as things went into focus. “What are you doing here?”

“Helpin’ you finish yer candy.” Came his garbled reply.

“Great.” Neville rolled his eyes.

“Heard you were awake.” He commented coolly. “I heard the rumours going around about what happened but I don’t remember anything after Quirrell blasted me into the wall.”

Neville remembered what Dumbledore said earlier about him hanging around and eating his candy. 

“How are you doing?” Neville asked him. 

He sported some cuts and bruises but otherwise wasn’t bad off.

“I’m fine, Neville. Stop worrying so much.” He popped one of the Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans in his mouth. As soon as he started chewing, he scrunched up his nose in disgust. He rolled out his tongue dropping the half-chewed bean on the ground. “Sardines.” He gagged out.

Neville started to laugh. It was funnier than when Dumbledore got earwax!

“Shut up!” Harry hotly replied, though he couldn’t help but join in.

Once their laughter died down Harry sat down on the chair near Neville’s bed. “What happened?” There was an intensity in his gaze.

Neville filled him in on everything that happened after he was knocked out and then his conversation with Dumbledore. He thought he had as much right to know about it as he did. 

After a long pause, Harry scuffed. “He’s still keeping answers from us.” He pointed out. “It’s like he thinks we are his puppets. Wait until your older. What rubbish.” He shook his head in dismay.

“He’s just looking out for us. He wants to make sure we stay kids.” Neville retorted.

He shook his head. “Don’t you see how convenient and detailed he is about some things and evasive on others? He’s cunning, that one. Takes one to know one.” He smirked lightly.

Neville thought about it and had to admit he had a point.

“Why did you ditch us and go alone?” He asked after a short lull of silence.

“Someone had to save the day and you lot weren’t about to do it.” He arrogantly stated. 

Neville glared at him in aggravation. _I am not a coward!_

Harry let out an audible sigh. “Fine. I was supposed to protect you. I couldn’t just let you put yourself in danger. They’d all kill me if you died. I figured I was better off handling it alone.” He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

Neville stared at him, gobsmacked.

“Harry. I don’t know what to say. I mean, I appreciate it but as you saw my friends and I could handle ourselves just fine. I’m not as useless as you think I am.”

Harry snorted, “I don’t think you’re useless. Never did. Pardon me, oh ‘chosen one’ for wanting to protect you from your Gryffindor martyr act.”

“Oh sod off.” Neville said with a grin, unable to help but notice the irony in Harry’s statement.

“I have this terrible feeling we’re both going to be needed in the future.” Harry said after a moment. His expression was rather grave.

“You’re probably right.” Neville agreed, a frown playing on his lips. 

He remembered what the snake had said and realized he wasn’t just talking about the Philosopher's Stone.

They sat quietly for a few more moments.

Glad you’re OK.” Harry said as he got to his feet. “Thanks, though, for saving me...and everyone else.” 

Neville gaped at him as he headed toward the exit.

“Thank you too!” He called out after him. “For everything.”

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned back toward Neville with a bewildered expression. _Why is he so surprised?_ Finally, Harry gave a slow smile, whirled back around and headed out without another word.


	21. The House Cup.

Draco couldn’t find Harry anywhere. He started to ask around even though he knew it would most likely get back to his father and he would be punished. He decided it didn’t matter because he would never forgive himself if something had happened to Harry because he had not looked hard enough for Harry.

He was deep in thought about the ordeal when Longbottom ran into him. _That git seemed to have never learned how to walk properly. It’s pathetic._

After the initial impact of the boy without poise, he decided to chance it and ask if they had seen Harry. _He’ll be the death of me._ He had thought as he anxiously awaited their reply. Snape arrived before they were able to answer, rendering them utterly useless. Draco hoped that he hadn’t heard him ask about Harry. He was certain he was the one who told his father. 

“I dare say none of you can afford to lose any more points.”

Draco had gulped at the scrutinizing look he gave him as he spoke. He rushed away quickly, not about to stick around for further questioning.

He picked at his dinner, glancing up every so often, expecting to see Harry. _Why is he not at the table? Where has he gone?_ He couldn’t shake a persistent feeling of foreboding.

After dinner, on the way back to the Slytherin common room, Snape approached him with an unreadable expression.

“Draco. A word in my office?” He drawled out. 

“Yes, sir.” He said casually, masking his anxiety behind a neutral, stoic expression.

He sat down in the chair once they arrived. Snape sat down at his desk, keeping his intense gaze focused on Draco.

“It seems you are looking for Potter. Is there a reason for this given the...circumstances of our arrangement?” 

“But Snape—he’s missing. Something is wrong, I know it.” He was too wound up to keep up pretenses any longer.

Snape’s expression remained unchanged. “I highly doubt that. There is nowhere for him to go.”

“He’s not at meals, sir. I haven’t seen him in the dormitories. It’s like he’s disappeared.”

“Perhaps he is avoiding you. Something I suggest you reciprocate. It’s for your own good. You wouldn’t want your father to find out about your _troubles_.” Snape stated.

Draco squirmed in his seat, his eyes widening considerably. _He wouldn’t dare, would he?_ He could tell by his expression that he meant every word.

He gulped, “Yes sir.” 

“Go socialize with your other housemates. Don’t let Potter’s upbringing negatively influence you.”

Draco shrank at the pointed look. 

“You are dismissed.”

“Yes sir.” Draco’s expression turned to ice.

Burying his worries, Draco returned to the Slytherin common room. 

“Ah, there he is. We thought we lost another one of us to Gryffindor scum.” Theo said from the couch.

Blaise snickered beside him. “Quite. I suspect, though, he’d follow him anywhere, though.” 

Draco grit his teeth. “Nonsense. I ditched that _aspiring_ Gryffindor ages ago.” He said stiffly.

“That’s why you were seeking him out then. Because you had ceased being his friend?” Theo perked a brow.

"You shouldn’t listen to silly rumours, Nott. I’d hate to have to inform my father of your treacherous lies.” Draco drawled out.

Theo and Blaise exchanged looks and then gazed back at Draco. “Ah, there he is. We thought you _had_ gone soft.” Blaise stated. “Sit.”

Draco wanted to hex both of them but he knew better. He had to play the game just as he was taught. He moved to sit down beside them. What had interested him before didn't have the same appeal. The Pureblood society had become boring and trite compared to the adventures he always got caught up in he was with Harry. There was a natural thrill for adventure that reside within the other lad. It seemed to be rubbing off on Draco.

After what felt like ages of polite torture, Draco feigned exhaustion and headed up to the dormitory. He automatically glanced at where Harry slept and frowned at his unmade bed. _Was he raised by wolves?_ He sneaked over to it and glanced around, trying to look for any indication he had been there. It seemed frozen in time, untouched. He really hadn’t been gone more than a day but in a place like Hogwarts, that was abnormal.

He shuffled his things about a bit, seeking his invisibility cloak but didn’t see it. _Would he really walk about invisible without telling anyone?_

He rubbed his face with his hand in an abnormally uncouth way and then returned to his bed. His invisibility cloak was gone. The possibility that he was gallivanting around without him bothered him more than he wanted to admit. When exhaustion took hold, he drifted into a fitful sleep.

The next morning, when he went down for breakfast, he noticed an energizes buzz in the air. He wondered if Longbottom finally went too far with his antics and got himself expelled. Being the boy who lived could only take him so far. As he sat down, Pansy turned to him with bright eyes and a sly smile. _There is a story_.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened!” She exclaimed excitedly.

“What is it?” He asked evenly.

“Longbottom and Potter are in the hospital wing! No one knows the story for sure but I heard that it was after fighting Professor Quirrell. Apparently, he was a huge follower of .” She leaned in close so that no one else could overheat, her eyes gleaming as she spoke.

“Some say that Harry was fighting with Longbottom and others think he was helping Quirrell. A mini Death Eater.” Daphne giggled.

“You two are ridiculous. Obviously, Longbottom and Potter were in a duel and Quirrell exacerbated the situation when he tried to break it up, being the incompetent fool, _he_ is.” Theo cut in.

Daphne narrowed his gaze at him. “Only you could make exciting gossip boring.”

Draco was trying to digest the conversation but it seemed so absurd. He remembered the Gryffindors talk about some stone but it never seemed that important. Harry insisted Snape was trying to kill him but there was never any real evidence. Nor did he fancy the thought of his Godfather attempting to murder people. He did just see him last night.

“That Irish Gryffindor and the Mudblood helped but didn’t make it to the end.” Pansy was saying.

“If you believe Potter and Longbottom could take on _any_ sort of follower of You-Know-Who then you really are as daft as you look.” Blaise said. 

“The whole thing is absurd.” Draco drawled out, trying to appear bored.

“Oh, Draco. Do try to enjoy the little things.” Pansy chastised. She turned back to the group, “I wonder if Quirrell was trying to summon the Dark Lord.” She was practically squealing with excitement.

“You-Know-Who is dead, you twit!” Blaise retorted loudly.

Draco tuned out the rest of the conversation. He glanced over at the Professor’s table. It was almost empty. He frowned and glanced down at his porridge. _Something went down, that’s for sure._

He sneaked a peak at the Gryffindor table. The Mudblood sat whispering to the Weasel quietly. He didn’t see Longbottom or Finnigan. The latter two appeared to be involved in some capacity. He wasn’t sure about the two sitting there. They appeared to be unscathed.

Rumours continued to fly the rest of the day but Draco paid no mind to it. He wanted to get definitive answers, not a myriad of hearsay. He intended to find out the truth one way or another.

He knocked on Snape’s door but he didn’t answer. He frowned, contemplating breaking in, but thought better of it. 

By dinner time all of the Professors, sans Quirrell sat back up at the table. Draco kept waiting for Dumbledore to stand up and actually tell them what happened but no such thing occurred. _Right. Because why would a bunch of kids want transparency?_

Potter and Finnigan was released after two full days in the Hospital Wing while Longbottom remained there.

Everyone bombarded Harry with questions he refused to answer. Harry caught his gaze a few times but Draco glanced away. He couldn’t publicly speak to him. He kept his head down as he listened to the chatter in the Slytherin Common Room that night.

“What happened, Harry? Are you alright?” Pansy asked with feigned concern. 

“It is not your concern.” He said shortly. 

“Oh yes. Why would he want to tell you about how he was fighting with a Gryffindor against Quirrell? He _was_ the big bad servant of You-Know-Who.” Blaise said in a mocking tone.

“Shut up!” Pansy hissed at him.

Harry stared between the two of them and then abruptly rose from the couch and headed out of the common room. 

After he left, Draco stood up and turned to his peers. “Don’t worry. I’ll get it out of him.” He flashed them a cunning smirk and followed after him.

He wished he was as confident about getting information out of Harry as he let on. He didn’t _actually_ intend to share anything with that lot

Harry must have heard someone behind him because he stopped and spun around, narrowing his eyes when he realized it was Draco. “What do you want, Malfoy?” He spat at him. 

“The truth about what happened. Not here, of course. In private.” He fidgeted in place.

“Don’t want to be seen with the likes of me, right?” He spat out.

“I—” Draco faltered.

“That’s what I thought. Bugger off, Malfoy.” He turned to walk off.

“I looked for you. I might get punished for it but I looked.” The words poured out of him.

Harry paused, his emerald gaze eyeing Draco searchingly. “Punished? Why?”

“My—father. He says you’re a Blood traitor.” He hated that he was blurting things out in such an unrefined manner.

Harry narrowed his eyes, studying Draco for a moment and then sighed. “If you recall; you also called me a Blood traitor.” Harry coldly pointed out.

“I-well...your family are Blood traitors but you’re my friend and—”

“Save it, Malfoy.” He spat.

“Harry. You have to set the record straight.” Draco pressed.

“I don’t really care what anyone thinks. It’s all very stupid. You can either listen to your father or be friends with me. You can’t have it both ways.”

“You don’t understand—” Draco saw visions of black and blue. He inwardly shuddered as he forced himself to scowl at Harry. “Fine. Be a social pariah. See if I care!” He shouted at him venomously.

Harry stared at him with a crushed expression before it darkened. “Great. I will. Later, Malfoy.”

Draco stared after him. Sadness pressed into his chest like a heavy weight. He turned around and went back into the common room. He ignored the questions shot at him and went straight to the dormitory. _I hate my stupid life!_ He thought as he punched his pillow repeatedly to keep from crying.

The next night was the End-Of-Term feast. Longbottom was already released and sickeningly embraced by his peers while Harry sat alone, isolated from everyone. _Where is the loyalty that is supposed to define Slytherins?_

When he entered the Great Hall, it was decked out in Slytherin colors of green and silver. Draco felt a wave of pride wash over him. It was their seventh year in a row winning but it was their first for him. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table. Draco sat next to Pansy and pretended to listen to her prattle on about Salazar knows what.

He was relieved when the Headmaster arrived and everyone was silenced.

“Another year gone!” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “And I must trouble you with an old man’s wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were...you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts…

“Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two.”

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Draco banged his goblet on the table with excitement and pride.

“Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin,” said Dumbledore. “However, recent events must be taken into account.”

The room went eerily still. Draco’s eyes widened in shock. _What in Salazar’s name does that mean?_

“Professor Quirrell was trying to steal something important from the school and a few students accepted the trials of following his footsteps and managed to thwart his efforts.” said Dumbledore. “In light of this; I have a few last-minute points to dish out.” 

Gasps rang throughout Great Hall. Draco’s jaw dropped and couldn’t help but stare at Harry incredulously. Draco and his fellow Slytherins exchanged nervous glances. _This can’t be good._

“First—to Seamus Finnigan for brave sacrifices in lieu of danger, I award Gryffindor House 60 points.”

Everyone at the Slytherin table groaned lowly. It wasn’t that they didn’t appreciate the thwarting of a Professor that turned against the school; they just didn’t like where this was going. Everyone knew that all of the professors sans Snape were biased toward Gryffindor. Slytherins earned their points fair and square! It’s not like they wouldn’t fight for the school given the chance!

The Gryffindors cheers, however, nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. _Irritating gits._ Draco irritably thought.

At last there was silence again.

“Second, to Hermione Granger...for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor 60 house points.”

Draco glanced over at the Mudblood. She buried her face in her arms. The rest of the Gryffindors seemed beside themselves with joy. _They’re up a hundred and twenty points. This is so unfair_!

“Third to Harry Potter. Standing up for friends is easy but to put aside adversities and put the greater good ahead of their own differences is admirable. For this, I award Slytherin House 50 points.” 

The whole Slytherin table cheered loudly, while the rest of the room sat in stunned silence. Fellow Slytherins that sat by Harry were patting him on the back. As irritating as it was that he was alongside Longbottom, the fact that Harry helped save the day was something to celebrate. 

After the assumptions made by the school against Slytherins, it was nice to be recognized for something good for once. Draco clapped loudly, swelling with pride for Harry and their house as a whole. They still won, after all.

Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent. 

“Fourth, to Ronald Weasley. For trusting a friend’s word without explanation in dire circumstances, I award Gryffindor 30 points”

The Gryffindors let out louder and far more irritating cheers of celebration. They were catching up and Draco suspected they saved the final point giving to Longbottom. He suddenly felt rather queasy.

“Last points go to Neville Longbottom…” said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. “...for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award 70 points.”

Draco’s jaw dropped as he realized what had happened. _Gryffindor won. They actually bloody won._

Slytherin sat in stunned, horrified silence as the other houses cheered along _._ Despite Harry’s hand in saving the day they acted like Slytherin’s demise was a positive thing. 

Longbottom disappeared under a pile of people hugging him while the thunderous cheers of the Gryffindors sounded like an explosion.

“Which means,” Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, “we need a change of decoration.” 

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile.

Long after that evening’s festivities had died down, the Slytherins retired to the common room. The mood was gloomy. Although Harry has won them points it wasn’t enough to win. Some congratulated him while others blamed him for the loss. Some even blamed Draco because of the point mishap earlier that year.

The mood was still sour when everyone went to bed. Once in the dormitory, Draco approached him. “Harry.” He said. 

The other boy turned and scowled at him. “What do you want, Malfoy?”

Draco fought the urge to chew on his lower lip. It was unbecoming, after all. 

“Good job...with everything and all.” He started off. “I’m sorry, OK? But I’m sure it’s probably OK, now. I mean, with everything that’s happened.” 

Harry stared at a long moment and then let out an elongated sigh. “Quirrell wasn’t just trying to steal something from the school. Voldemort was attached to him. Voldemort was trying to return.”

Draco visibly winced. _He is using his name!_ He thought, bewildered. 

As he processed what Harry was telling eyes bugged out of his head. “He was what? Harry, you know as well as I do that You-Know-Who is dead.” He lowered his voice.

“Sort of. He was living off unicorn blood. The Philosopher’s Stone would have given him life.” Harry said flatly.

Draco let this sink in, his heart pounding. He was raised to believe it was bad that the Dark Lord, who he could only call that in private, had lost. He had the _right_ ideals, after all. Yet, his friend lost his parents because of a follower torturing in his name. As much as he hated Longbottom, it seemed equally unfair that he lost his parents. He did not like that at all. 

“We can’t tell anyone, let alone my father. There’s no telling what he’d think or do.” Draco tried to keep the shakiness out of his voice.

 _I’ll be blamed for this._ He thought. 

Harry stared at him for a long time, brows furrowed slightly. Draco dropped his gaze. He didn’t want him to know he was afraid. 

“Draco...you know your dad is wrong, right? Voldemort is evil. He left his own servant to die. He is loyal to no one, least of all his followers.” 

He visually winced as Harry casually spoke You-Know-Who’s name. “Stop saying his name.”

“Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.” Harry irritatingly stated out of nowhere.

He shook his head. “Shut up, git!” He spat. “You don’t understand—” 

“I think I do. You aren’t your parents and you don’t have to believe what they do. Sirius Black’s parents were like yours but he went a different route too.” 

Draco hated him for making so much sense. Still, he didn’t _know_ what it was like to be a constant disappointment. He didn’t know. 

“Merlin.” Harry stated as he approached Draco and put his hand on his shoulder. 

He hadn’t realized until that moment he was shaking. When he glanced up at Harry there was a question in his gaze that Draco didn’t want to answer. He refused to acknowledge or remember. 

Harry must have thought better than to ask him because he went silent. He squeezed Draco’s shoulder tightly and then backed up. 

“See you next year, Draco.” Without another word he went to his bed.

He stood there for several more moments and then went to bed, mentally putting his emotions in tiny compartments to be either accessed or buried.

The final days at Hogwarts went by in a blur. He didn’t speak to anyone. When he saw his marks, he regarded them with a distant smugness that turned into foreboding queasiness when he realized that the Mudblood beat his scores. 

_It’s going to be a long summer_. He thought to himself sourly as he boarded the train that returned them to Platform 9 ¾. He sat with Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy, who did most of the talking. Once they exited the train they waited an absurd about of time to get off of the platform. They were forced to exit two by two. Irritated, and exhausted by Pansy's chattering, they walked through the wall. He was unable to get an edge in word wise so he remained quiet, putting his thoughts in order, and nodding when deemed appropriate.

"Have a good summer, Draco!" She cheerfully said once they arrived.

"You as well, Pansy." He responded.

He watched her as she went to find her parents. _They either have endless energy or are perpetually exhausted._ He thought to himself.

When he spotted his parents at King's Cross Station, he had a strong sense of foreboding wash over him. His mother embraced him, and he returned the hug, clinging to the few moments his parents remained blissfully ignorant of his disappointments. When he separated, he saw that his father was staring down at him with a notable sneer as though he already knew what a letdown Draco was. He forced himself to push down his emotions and maintain eye contact with his father. 

He almost seemed to smile at the way Draco held himself. He held his hand out. “Son.” He said evenly.

Draco shoved down his eagerness as he coolly shook his father’s hand with the formality he was taught from when he was a young kid. 

“Father.” He politely returned. 

His father was not an overly affectionate man but something as astute as a handshake was a telling sign that he was pleased with him. He ignored the sinking feeling that it would not last.

As his father put his hand on his shoulder to Apparated home; Draco practiced compartmentalizing his emotions in its entirety. It was essential if he was going to get through the summer.


	22. The end of the term.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of "The Chosen One", the first of the series.

After Neville was released from the hospital the following day; he was greeted by cheering classmates. Seamus, Ron and Hermione was among them. Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around him, but Neville was glad she held herself back because he was still quite sore. Seamus and Ron both gave him hearty handshakes. 

Everyone was trying to get out of him what happened. There were quite a few rumours spreading about the school and it seemed like everyone had a different theory. Neville wasn’t entirely sure what he should say. Dumbledore had said everyone knew about it yet the actual events remained a mystery to the majority of his classmates.

Neville pushed through the crowd of students with invasive questions and hero worship. He was not sure what to think about his peers finally accepting him as the boy who lived.

Once he, Hermione, Seamus, and Ron were able to escape the mob of questions they piled into an empty classroom so that they would have some privacy.

“Oh, Neville, we were so sure you were going to—Dumbledore was so worried.” Hermione gushed out as soon as the door was closed.

“The whole school was talking about it.” Ron said.

“What really happened?” Seamus added.

Neville glanced at Ron with uncertainty. _How much did he know?_

“It’s OK. We clued him in.” Seamus reassured him.

With a sigh of relief, Neville relayed the events to the trio. It was one of those rare occasions when the true story was stranger and more exciting than the wild rumours.

He told them everything: Harry’s involvement; Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. They were a great audience, they gasped in all the right places and when Neville told them what was under Quirrell’s turban, Hermione screamed out loud.

“So, the Stone is gone, then?” Seamus asked finally. “Flamel is a header to give that up. He’ll die without it.” 

“That’s what I thought at first. Dumbledore said, ‘to the well-organized mind, death is the next big adventure.’”

“I always said he was off his rocker.” Ron said with a shake of his head.

“It makes sense in a way. All that time living he probably experienced everything, including the deaths of others he knew and cared about. He needed a new adventure.” Neville explained.

Hermione looked quite impressed, Seamus was contemplative, and Ron frowned.

“What about you lot?” Neville asked after a moment.

“I managed to lead off Peeves and not get caught.” Ron shrugged his shoulders like it was no big deal.

Seamus smirked, “Aye! A right topper, this one!”

Hermione smiled at Ron but didn’t say anything. Ron smiled sheepishly in return at the two of them.

“Well, I got back OK,” said Hermione. “I brought up Seamus, which took a while, and went dashing up to the owlery to contact Dumbledore. He was already there once we arrived. He just said, ‘Neville’s gone after him, hasn’t he?’ and hurried off to the third floor.”

“Do you think he meant you to do it? Go after Quirrell and all?” Seamus asked after a moment.

“If he did that’s terrible! You could have been killed.” Hermione interjected with furrowed brows.

“Mental.” Ron muttered. 

“No, it isn’t.” Neville said after a few moments. “He knew we were going to do it anyway. He just gave us the tools to succeed. It is no accident that Harry and I found out how the mirror works. It’s almost like he thought both of us had the right to face Voldemort for different reasons. Whether directly or not; Voldemort affected the both of us.”

The other three winced when he said ‘Voldemort’.

“Yeah, Dumbledore’s off his rocker, all right!” Ron said proudly.

“Are we going to have to call you the ‘chosen one’, now? I’m not too keen on promoting such an inflation of your ego, boyo!” Seamus teased.

Neville turned red even as he laughed. “Do me a favor and never call me that!”

Seamus burst out into boisterous laughter with the rest of them following suit.

“There’s one thing I don’t quite get,” Hermione said after they calmed down, “why did Harry ditch us and follow Quirrell on his own?”

“For the glory.” Ron grunted.

“I think he figured he could take them on himself.” He didn’t want to reveal everything he had told Neville in confidence.

Seamus let out a whistle. “What a chancer he put himself in the process. Wasn’t he afraid of dying? Did he figure we’d give up and head to Dumbledore?”

“We could ask him.” Hermione suggested. 

“Oh, yeah. That will go over well.” Ron rolled his eyes at her. “Anyway, let’s go. I want to get a few games of Exploding Snap before the End-Of-Term Feast tonight.” 

Neville was relieved by the topic change. He didn’t want them to question Harry. Ron was right about one thing; it would not go over well. 

That night they won the House Cup, thanks to what happened under the trapdoor that night. It made Neville uneasy. Harry had been just as essential in the scheme of things and Slytherin _had_ won fair and square. It didn’t seem right to take that away from them. Neville wisely kept this opinion to himself and celebrated with the rest of the Gryffindors in the common room late into the night.

Neville almost forgot about the exam results until they arrived. He, Seamus, and Ron passed with good marks. His Herbology scores made up for his abysmal Potions ones. Hermione, of course, had the best marks in their year. Ron said that he had hoped that Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, would be thrown out but he passed, too. 

“You can’t have everything in life.” He had said, which warranted a stern glare from Hermione.

Soon it was time for them to leave. Their wardrobes were emptied and their trunks were packed. Notes were passed out to all of the students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays (“I always hope they’ll forget to give us these,” said Fred Weasley sadly); and readied themselves to say goodbye to the school for the summer. 

Before they left, they went to visit Hagrid one last time.

Hagrid opened the door to his hut and let them inside. He took one look at the lot of them and burst into tears.

“It’s all my ruddy fault!” He sobbed, his face in his hands. “I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was the only thing he didn’t know, an’ I told him! Yeh could’ve died! All fer a dragon egg! I’ll never drink again! I should be chucked out an’ made ter live as a muggle!”

The four of them exchanged bewildered looks as Hagrid stood shaking with grief and remorse. Great tears leaked down into his beard.

“Hagrid, he would have found another way to get the information. This is Voldemort we’re talking about here.” Neville stated.

“Yeh could’ve died!” sobbed Hagrid. “An’ don’t say the name!”

“Dumbledore says that fear of a name increases the fear of the thing itself.” Neville said evenly.

“That’s quite brilliant, really.” Hermione commented even though she shuddered when his name was spoken.

Seamus and Ron exchanged nervous glances, seemingly uncertain. They too had winced when he said his name.

“Please cheer up, Hagrid. We saved the Stone; it’s gone and he can’t use it. Have a chocolate frog. I’ve got loads.” Neville pulled one out of his robes and handed it to Hagrid. 

“It’s not your fault, Hagrid.” Hermione emphasized.

Hagrid wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, “Thanks for comin’ to say goodbye all official.”

“Of course.” Neville said.

“Wouldn’t forget you, mate.” Ron added with a smile.

“Yeah. I mean, the dragon adventure was grand! Well until we got caught and lost all those points for Gryffindor. It worked out brilliantly in the end for us. Not so much for Slytherin, though.” He smirked at that.

Neville stayed quiet about that, not wanting to air what he truly thought about it.

They stayed a bit longer before heading off.

Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats and sailed across the lake. Then they boarded the Hogwarts Express talking and laughing while eating Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans. They pulled off their wizard robes and changed into their Muggle clothes as they pulled into platform nine and three quarters at King's Cross Station.

It took quite a while for them to all get off the platform. A wizard let them out two by two so they didn’t alarm the Muggles by all bursting out of a solid wall all at once.

“You have to visit this summer!” Ron exclaimed. “All three of you! I’ll send you an owl!”

“Sounds good, mate.” Neville said. 

People called out to Neville as he left.

“Bye, Neville!”

“See you later, Neville.”

“Guess you’re right popular and famous now.” Ron remarked.

“Not where I’m going, believe me.” 

Gran wasn’t one to humor him with special treatment. She held high expectations of him. At 12 Grimmauld Place; Harry was the special one. Not one for the spotlight, Neville was relieved.

Once through the gateway into the Muggle world, he spotted Mrs. Weasley. 

“There he is, mum! Look!” It was Ginny Weasley, Ron’s younger sister, but she wasn’t pointing at him.

“It’s Neville Longbottom!” She squealed.

“Be quiet, Ginny, it’s rude to point.”

Mrs. Weasley smiled down at them.

“Busy year?” She said.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Seamus said with a bit of a laugh.

They said their goodbyes and departed. 

He saw Harry heading toward Sirius Black. He caught his gaze and sent a nod his way. Harry glared at him with newfound rage. No doubt because of what happened with the House Cup. _That wasn’t my fault!_ He frowned, frustrated with the renewed friction it created between the houses.

Neville let out a sigh and turned away. _I hope I can go to Ron’s this summer instead of spending any time with Harry._

When he saw his Gran, he embraced her tightly. He had missed her. As they set off home, Neville filled Gran in on his year, sans a few major details he hoped she wouldn’t find out about.

Neville glanced back at the wall they went through and smiled. Despite the horrible things that happened throughout the year looked back on the year fondly. He learned loads of magic and finally made some friends. Even though he was glad for a break; he couldn’t help but look forward to his second year at Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think about it so far! Part two will be coming soon! I plan on swerving off the canon path a bit more than the first one. I consider this one to be a bit of a "set up" in terms of characters/setting/events. While it will still fall in line with the same rating for the most part, there will be darker elements evident.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for reading, and leaving kudos and comments!


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